A Different Girl
by mariahc
Summary: Buffy returns to Sunnydale, very different from when left. (AU from the end of Season 2.)
1. Prologue: Memory

Giles padded in his kitchen, pulling out yesterday's leftovers from the refrigerator to fix dinner. A full week of school had passed, the first week, and still she had not returned. No word, no call, no sign that she was alive or dead. Not that she cared for school, particularly, but he had a small hope that the beginning of the school year would bring her familiar face back to him. Over four months since she had left. He had marked each day on the calendar, once he'd returned from the hospital, telling himself that each day brought him one day closer to the day she returned. A slice of lasagna went on his plate, and he popped it in his oven, waiting for his food to warm up. The tea kettle was already bubbling, he lifted it from the stove and poured water into his waiting cup. How many times had he poured his tea, hoping that someone would join him?   
  
He heard a growling sound outside. He had heard it every so often the last few weeks. The idle thought that it might be an enormous demon had ended when he had poked his head out the door to see the back end of an antique Harley race down his street. Sometimes it held one passenger, sometimes two. But they always wore helmets, and he never saw the bike on any of his wanderings during the day. He returned to books, searching for a spell, a prophecy, anything that would indicate when she would return. He had tried a spell once, about six or seven weeks after she left, and it has backlashed on him. It had taken over a week to recover his usual strength, and when he had tried the same spell again, it had indicated that she was somewhere in L.A. But where, there was no telling, since it appeared that she was somewhere that was shielded. All he could tell was that she was somewhere, in L.A. or Orange County, alive. That was as specific as his locating spell would get. He had met with Joyce on several occasions since, told her he thought Buffy was alive, in L.A. But every trip to demon bars or to other shielded haunts he knew of in the area turned up no clue of her whereabouts. No one had seen the Slayer, and she was not hunting. There was no sign of her, other than an amorphous cloud over a map. He decided he'd try again tonight to see if she had emerged from hiding.   
  
The doorbell rang as Giles sat down on his sofa, lasagna in hand. He placed his food on the coffee table and went to the door. He'd had few visitors over the summer. Olivia had visited once, for three weeks, and returned to Essex. One or two demons had popped up, reporting they might have seen Buffy at various demon bars around L.A. or San Diego, but they usually came to the back door. Opening the door, he saw the face he had most hoped and least expected to see. Buffy stood there, motorcycle helmet hanging by its strap in one hand, a cross lying in the other open palm. Her golden hair was matted down with sweat from wearing the helmet in ninety-plus heat. She wore red leather pants and a black leather jacket, dressed for the ride, not the weather. Her smile was as light and sunny as ever, but her eyes betrayed bone-deep fatigue and a bitter grief he'd never seen in them before. He wondered if his eyes showed similar emotions. He noticed the sun slipping down past the horizon as she stood waiting for him to say something.   
  
"Hello." He hadn't seen her in four months, and that was the best he could come up with?   
  
"Hi." Her voice was flat, emotionless. She closed her hand, returning the crucifix to her pocket. They stood at the door, regarding one another silently. The silence stretched out to fill minutes, and she turned, whispering just loud enough for him to hear, "Tell my mother I live, still." He watched her back as she stepped away from his door, returning to the motorcycle that was parked behind the Citroen.   
  
He called after her, clearing his throat. "Wait." Buffy turned, the helmet swinging in her hand as she froze. "Please come in." Giles stepped away from the door, no longer barring her entry.   
  
Buffy nodded, and strode forward, entering the apartment. She looked about, the apartment was virtually unchanged, except for his tea and lasagna on the coffee table, his books strewn around. But, truly, she seemed to be seeing it for the first time, her eyes flicking over tables and books, his jacket hanging by the door, his briefcase on the floor. She trailed her fingers idly across one of his books, almost as if she could read it. But she couldn't, it was in a language she didn't know. Babylonian. "That won't work, you know."   
  
Giles nodded dumbly. He had tried the spell three days before. It had failed. "Are you hungry?"   
  
"I've eaten. But don't let me stop you." She ventured back to the kitchen, reaching for the kettle and lifting it to test its contents. "May I have tea?"   
  
"Please."   
  
Buffy was frozen in her spot in the kitchen, eyes darting around. Her shoulders slumped. "I don't remember."   
  
Giles went into the kitchen, pulling a cup and saucer from their place and a tea ball and spoon from the drawer. He held out a box of tea, and she sniffed it, nodding. He began preparing the tea until she reached over to him stopping his hands and taking over the task. Giles pulled milk from the fridge and placed the sugar bowl in front of her.   
  
"Merci." Buffy waited, still and silent, while her tea steeped, then poured sugar into it, stirring it and testing it. Giles had never known her to be so quiet, so motionless. She had always moved like lightning. Even when she patrolled, she was noisy and pretty much announced her presence to her victims. He watched her put the tea on the coffee table, and close her eyes before unzipping her jacket. She wore a spaghetti strapped shirt beneath it, cream-colored, and it set off her tan nicely. She reached into a pocket, pulling out a slim cell phone flipping it open and placing it next to her tea. Giles took the jacket from her, and hung it on the hook next to his. When Giles returned to his food, it was cold, but he ignored it, so relieved to see the woman sitting on her knees on the floor opposite him.   
  
Giles tried to think of something to say, and settled for "How have you been?"   
  
"Lonely. Sometimes. You?"   
  
"Worried. You haven't called. I've been unable to find you."   
  
"I know. I'm shielded. To keep the vamps away. Makes me hard to find."   
  
"You've been in L.A.?"   
  
"Some. Some here, more recently. I have a house with a roommate a couple miles away."   
  
"I've heard that bike go down the street a few times."   
  
"Helping me learn my way around. I've forgotten."   
  
"Is that why you did not call?"   
  
"It wasn't allowed." Buffy seemed uncomfortable. "I shouldn't be here now. He'll know, be angry."   
  
"Angelus?"   
  
"Angelus?" Buffy seemed confused. "Why? Where is he?"   
  
"I don't know. I thought maybe you did."   
  
Buffy shook her head. "I haven't seen him, since. Since?" She looked to Giles questioningly. He nodded, hoping that she found it reassuring. The tension in her shoulders relaxed some, so he guessed she did.   
  
"Why aren't you allowed to call?"   
  
"Doctor's orders. I'm supposed to be stress-free except for work. Fixed routine. My friends, they worry if anyone sees me, I'll…" She shrugged. "I guess they think it will make things take longer. I can't fight, too weak. I hardly remember anything. You, a little bit, sometimes snippets of times with my mom. When I was little. But mostly I remember Merrick, Hemery. L.A. stuff. Where's Merrick? I was hoping I could remember where he lives."   
  
"He's dead, Buffy."   
  
She looked genuinely shocked, then saddened. "What happened?"   
  
Giles shook his head. "I don't know. You never told me."   
  
She studied her hands, serious. "A fight, maybe?"   
  
"Perhaps."   
  
"You call me Buffy. Is that my name?"   
  
"You don't recall?"   
  
Buffy shook her head, looking thoughtful. "No one calls me that. Silly name."   
  
"It's yours."   
  
"Not anymore. Not in a long time."   
  
"You've only been gone four months. How long can that be?"   
  
"Long." Giles heard the ring of a cell phone. Buffy looked at her phone as it rang. She waited for the name to come through. "Allo. Bonsoir, Lorne. Non. Dans deux heures. Oui. Oui. A bientot. Je le ferai. Je t'aime. Au revoir." She closed the phone. "I must leave soon. Jay didn't show up for work. I have to go in. It doesn't get busy for a few more hours, anyway."   
  
"Where are you going?"   
  
"Back to L.A."   
  
"That's two hours away!"   
  
"That's what I told Lorne. I was hoping to stay home tonight. Here in Sunnydale. I had some gardening to do in the morning. It's my first night off in two weeks."   
  
"So call him back."   
  
"No. I'll go. He'll make it worth my while. I'll have my housemate do the watering and weeding." Buffy winked at Giles, giving him the first genuine smile of the night. "But…" Buffy went over to her jacket, pulling out an envelope. "Here. Can you talk to my mother, see if she can get me registered for school? If she can, I'll give notice at my day job." Buffy wrote a few numbers down on the back of the envelope. "My cell. You call me, please don't give it to Mom. I'd rather talk to her in person. In a week or so, if my memories come back, it will be easier." She held the envelope back until Giles nodded his assent, then passed it to him. Giles took the envelope, placing it on top of his briefcase. Buffy shrugged on her jacket, eyes fixed on the room as if to commit it to memory. Buffy left without another word, leaving her tea untouched on Giles' coffee table, and quietly closing his front door behind her. As Giles lifted the first forkful of his cold lasagna to his mouth, he heard the growling of the antique Harley as she rode away. 


	2. Latin Homework

"Last one to the tree is a rotten egg!" As Buffy raced up the hill, she looked behind her, noticing that her pursuer had relented, and hiking up the hill at a steady pace. "Give up, Old Man?"   
  
"I prefer to breathe, thank you very much." Giles reached the summit, bestowing a friendly smile on her and dropping a picnic basket on the ground. "And I lack certain, well, advantages, of a seventeen year old girl."   
  
"Slayer strength, endurance?"   
  
"Precisely." Giles flopped on the ground beside the tree, where Buffy was spreading out a large blanket. She reached into the picnic basket, grabbing a can of diet coke and lobbing a thermos of hot tea at her companion. She popped the can open, taking a long sip before running her hand through her hair and seating herself next to her Watcher. Giles retrieved a book from the picnic basket thumbing through the pages until he reached his post-it not marking where he had left off. "Where were we? Ah, I see." And he launched into the story, while Buffy relaxed, snuggled up on his chest. Who thought Giles would like Harry Potter so much? She listened to his melodious British voice, which read the book with a tinge of amusement as he described the arrival of Hagrid to the island cabin where the Dursleys had run away to escape the letters from Hogwarts. As Buffy began to drift off, she startled when she noticed the voice had changed from Giles' kindly one to a gravelly voice that she had not heard in a long time. "Merrick?" She looked up from her comfortable spot on Giles' sweater to see instead the face of her long-dead first Watcher. As she gazed at his face, Merrick's voice issued its final challenge. "How could you betray me? How could you leave me for another?" She watched as his face faded, becoming skull-like, finally drifting into the dust motes of a newly-staked vampire.   
  
"No! No!" She looked on in horror as the dust that was Merrick clutched at the stake in his heart, her final vision his accusing eyes. "I'll never! I didn't mean to! Come back!" She screamed out loud, clutching at the sweater under her head, sobbing. "Please. Forgive me!" She was lost in that place between sleeping and waking where the dream felt so real that she wanted to snatch it back and try to change the ending.   
  
"Buffy! Wake up!" Her eyes fluttered opened, seeing not the accusing eyes of her first Watcher, but the concerned ones of her second. She scrambled back on the leather couch in his office, burying her face into the knit sweater that she had used as a pillow for her nap. Eu de Giles. Peppermint and Earl Grey. No wonder she had been having such a weird dream. She could still feel the wet tears streaming down her face, soaking the sweater. "Angel?" Buffy shook her head no. Since Buffy had returned from her summer away in Los Angeles, she had frequently awakened haggard from nightmares. "Prophecy?"   
  
Buffy shrugged, unsure of how to answer. "No, I guess not. Not unless a picnic at Monroe Park qualifies as prophetic. However, it felt, well, real. It was actually a good dream, mostly."   
  
Giles removed his reading glasses and studied her face, which still streamed tears. "Really? And so why the screaming? And the tears?" He passed her a white linen handkerchief.   
  
Buffy looked up at her watcher, morbidly wondering what Merrick might have told him about her. Merrick had always seemed to disapprove of her privately, while attempting to encourage her in a businesslike fashion. She had never lived up to Merrick's expectations of her. She wondered if Giles felt the same way. He probably did but, then, he did a better job of covering. She thought of how her poor decisions had resulted in Miss Calendar's death and Giles' torture. "Bad ending. God, how you must hate me." She shied away from him, not wanting to see the same accusatory look in his eyes that she saw in Merrick's. She grabbed her books from under the couch shoving them in her bag as she flew out the door, leaving a puzzled watcher in her wake. Giles bent over, noticing that Buffy had left behind an envelope in her haste. He picked it up, walking over to his desk. The return address on the envelope was the UCLA Classics department, and inside was a set of papers. Curious, Giles pulled them out, rifling through them quickly, noticing that in the "Name" section of each of the papers, Buffy's neat print filled out "Elizabeth Anne Summers". Each paper was a test and clearly Buffy's grades in this course was well ahead of any that she ever reported at Sunnydale High. "92, 96, 89, 95, 95, 99 "Excellent Work!", 97", and one, that read "Final - Classics L202", which again was filled out in Buffy's neatest print, but ungraded. Giles read through the test, absentmindedly noticing two minor errors while realizing the effort that Buffy must have put out to work through the difficult translation. "Who would have thought Buffy would attempt Latin?"   
  
Later...   
  
"Hiya, Giles!" Willow bounded through the library doors gifting Giles with a big grin. "What's up? Need any help with research?" Giles poked his head out of his office, seeing the sweater and overall clad redhead dumping her books on the study table and walking around the front desk to his office. "Ooh, tea. And doughnuts! Cool." Willow plopped down on the same couch where Buffy had been napping, grabbing a doughnut from the stash. "Buffy said she was going to be a few minutes late. Snyder is meeting with her. You know, catching up on school stuff."   
  
Giles handed Buffy's UCLA envelope to Willow. "Do you know anything about this?"   
  
He sat back in his chair watching the expressions that flickered across Willow's face. First shock, then interest, then a guilty frown as she ripped the papers from the envelope and looked at the grades on top. "Damn. She got a 95 on that one. Oops! I'm sorry, Giles. Hey! She didn't tell me she had gotten to the final. I'm only on the sixth test. If my calculations are right, I'm about fifteen dollars behind." Willow walked back to her book bag and pulled out an identical yellow envelope that read "UCLA Classics Department", but was addressed to "Willow Ruth Rosenberg" and handed it to Giles.   
  
"I'll take that as a yes." Giles glanced over the papers in the envelope noting the grades on the top. Willow's were two to five points lower on each of the first five tests, the lowest being an 86 on the third test. "What is this about? Why would Buffy study Latin, of all things?"   
  
"It's a duel. I got to choose the weapon." Willow took back her Latin papers from Giles. "It goes way back to the end of sophomore year. Anyway, it was a challenge. I hacked the UCLA classics department and signed us up for Latin 101 in distance ed. We add up the points at the end of the course and subtract the difference. Whoever has the most points gets to go out for dinner at the other's expense. I won the first two classes, Buffy won for 201, but it was just enough for coffee at the Bronze. I guess Buffy finished more papers over the summer than I did. She may finally have enough points on me to get treated to La Med." Willow trailed off.   
  
"So why not come to me for help? I assure you I am quite familiar with Latin."   
  
"That's the deal. No helping allowed. Solo work only, any questions have to be addressed by e-mail to the professor."   
  
"You mean neither of you have received any help on any of this?"   
  
Willow shook her head vehemently. "Nope. It's a secret. No one is supposed to know." She thought a minute. "We've both used outside sources for assistance, you know, we each have a Latin-English dictionary, and a Latin verbs book, but it's kept even. But I noticed that Buffy sneaks out of Holy Cross each Thursday for the Latin Mass before patrol. I haven't called her on it. Seeing as how I'm losing big-time, maybe I should."   
  
"Nothing is stopping you from going, too." Giles removed his glasses and cleaned them, trying to puzzle out the implications of this little contest.   
  
"I'm Jewish, Giles, Mom would have a cow." Willow spoke softly. "Just don't mention it to anybody. Buffy doesn't want anyone to know about it. And since I hacked the UCLA network to get us in the classes without paying, I guess I don't want anyone to know, either."   
  
Just then, Buffy arrived, dressed in workout clothes. "Ready for training, watcher-mine?"   
  
"Very well, go warm up." While Buffy was stretching in the main library, Giles snuck her envelope of Latin tests back into her bag. 


	3. Holy Cross

Three days later, Giles parked his Citroen a block away from Holy Cross chapel and was watching as elderly ladies and a few men worked their way slowly up the steps of the church. He had about decided that Willow was pulling his leg when he saw a single young woman in a long lavender skirt and jacket, a black lace doily pinned to her blonde hair, offering her arm to another elderly parishioner who chatted with her amiably as they went up the steps together. It was Buffy, looking not like the California valley girl that he knew, but, rather, like a conservative young businesswoman. After a few minutes of gathering his wits together, Giles followed her into the chapel, taking a seat at the rear of the chapel, well out of sight of Buffy, who was seated near the altar, still engrossed in a conversation with the matron whom she had helped up the stairs. At seven-thirty on the nose, the Latin Mass began. Buffy appeared completely comfortable with the liturgy, reciting the responses without using a missile, which Giles had retrieved from one end of the pew. When the mass had completed, over an hour later, Giles slipped unseen into the shadows of the church while Buffy assisted her friend out of the church and over to the parking lot nearby. As he was about to leave, he heard the voice of the priest in the breezeway.   
  
"Yes, Anne, come along. Father Joseph has kindly given us the use of his office. It is just to the side of the altar, here." Giles' jaw dropped to the floor as he watched Buffy take the priest's proffered arm and walk with him to the front of the sanctuary and enter a room to the right of the altar. He was frozen in place, conflicted between his desire to flee the church and preserve his Slayer's privacy and an overwhelming curiosity as to what possible business his Slayer could have with the priest. Eventually the curiosity won out, and Giles strode down the aisle and let himself into the robing room that Buffy had entered with the priest. He followed the sound of Buffy's tinkling laughter and stood outside the closed double doors to the office of "Father Joseph Michael Adler" where evidently Buffy was meeting with the priest. Hanging on a hook on the door was a printed sign which read "Private, Confessional – Do Not Disturb". He heard the priest's low rumbling voice and Buffy's quiet singsong, occasionally punctuated with bursts of laughter as the two conversed behind the door.   
  
"Well, shall we get to business, then?" The tenor of the priests' voice had changed, making it possible to understand the conversation from outside the room.   
  
"Yes." Giles could hear Buffy's quick steps and peeked through the gap between the doors, seeing Buffy rise from her seat to kneel at the feet of the priest. Taking the white-haired priests' gnarled hands in her own, she looked to his face and spoke clearly, "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been two months since my last confession." At the priest's nod, Giles' listened to Buffy's litany as she confessed to repeatedly sneaking out of her home against her mother's wishes (to patrol, Giles thought), profanity, and a few offenses so minor that Giles wondered why she would even bother. He listened to the quiet as Buffy paused, and waited for the priest to speak, but then heard Buffy's throat clear and she spoke, "I have betrayed my calling. I have been unfaithful. I wish to return."   
  
Giles gasped, then heard the priest's serious tone. "To the monastery?"   
  
"Yes."   
  
"And this will help you to regain your fidelity to your calling?"   
  
The teasing voice that Giles knew so well sounded behind the door. "Big words, Father. No. I don't know. I am so tired. Everyone seems so angry, no one knows me anymore, no one trusts me anymore, not my mom, not my friends. I hate this charade. I want to go back to the sisters."   
  
"Your Watcher, would he say that you have betrayed your calling?"   
  
"He doesn't know."   
  
"Did he return to England?"   
  
"No, he was here when I returned." Giles heard the muted click of Buffy's heels as she paced the carpeted floor of the office. "I want to run away again. It is too much. Nobody understands why I left, why I came back."   
  
"Why did you come back?"   
  
"You convinced me. The sisters would not allow me to stay. I missed my mom, Giles."   
  
"Anne, you know that you are welcome to return any time that you wish, but there are rules. We cannot hide a seventeen-year-old runaway inside our walls. You must get your mother's blessing. And I think, perhaps, this Watcher's as well."   
  
"He will never give it."   
  
"Because if you return to us, you will betray your true calling. We are not your calling?"   
  
"No. I wish it were so easy."   
  
"Nothing important is ever easy. Why do you think you are unfaithful? Have you lied to your Watcher?"   
  
"I've been hiding things from him. Important things. I have dreams."   
  
"Well, dreams hardly constitute a sin. We all have dreams. I dream of being twenty again, and not a priest."   
  
Buffy giggled. "In my dreams, he is so angry, hurt, betrayed. I don't know why. I don't know what I did wrong. I did everything wrong. And now he is gone."   
  
"Giles?"   
  
"No. Merrick. He was my first Watcher. I killed him." Giles heard a thump, and peeked between the doors again, seeing Buffy crumpled on the floor, sobbing. "I was so cruel to him. I hated him, I hated my calling. Then Giles came, and something changed. He made it okay, for a while. I had friends again, a place, someone who loved me."   
  
"Angel."   
  
"Yes. And I could see that thing, the thing that Merrick did in his eyes. I hate it. And now that I'm back, it's even worse."   
  
"What?"   
  
"Disappointment, I could never live up to his expectations. And I want so badly to do it, be everything that he wants me to be. Like Kendra. He adored Kendra, they could talk about books and stuff. He never asks me what happened over the summer. It's like I left one day, and returned the next. Four months of my life never existed. Please, tell me that they were real. That I knew peace for a little while."   
  
Giles stumbled away from the door to the office, swiftly pacing his way from his guilty perch outside the priest's office to his car, driving back to his apartment with a thousand thoughts swirling crazily through his head. What did Buffy think of him? How could she possibly think he was disappointed in her? Were his expectations really so impossibly high? What was she hiding? What had really happened over the summer? He found it hard to believe that Buffy had run away to a convent, but somehow, in a twisted way, it made sense. 


	4. Watcher's Journal 1

Journal of Rupert Giles, second Watcher to Buffy Summers.   
  
5 November 1998   
  
Buffy has been back for nearly six weeks. The changes in her from the girl I remember before are uncanny. She is quiet, very quiet. There is a preternatural stillness about her. She is deadly serious, especially in training sessions. She spends little time with her friends Willow and Xander, but they seem to accept that without much complaint. She no longer laughs at "in" jokes, or if she does, it rings false, at least to me. I suspect she cannot remember enough of the two of them to recognize the jokes at all. The expression I see in her eyes when she thinks no one is looking is so terribly sad that my heart breaks for her.   
  
I worry about her. She is weak. She is still stronger than human, but nowhere near slayer strength. She eats nothing and drinks very little. She sleeps on the office couch every lunch break and study hall. Her sleep comes almost immediately and at times she is so still I find myself hovering over her to see if she is still breathing. She has an economy of movement she never demonstrated before. It is as if every motion costs her dearly. I found a stash of brown paper lunch bags under my office couch that I could not explain. Then I caught her in a nightmare one study hall. She woke from it, vomited profusely into one of the bags and fled the library, the bag hidden under her jacket.   
  
I half wonder if she is pregnant. She has had no cycle since she returned, but she is so thin and it is normal for slayers to go long periods without menstruating. So it seems pointless speculation. She disappears every weekend, two nights, presumably to her friends in L.A. She says she works her job at a bar there. In a few conversations I have had with Joyce, she indicated that the weekends were part of Buffy's negotiations to return home. She lives at Revello Drive from Monday to Friday, and disappears to god only knows where for the duration of the weekend. I suspect she has a lover, for she returns from her weekends somewhat refreshed and relaxed. My suspicion is that it is Lorne; when she talks to him on her phone, she always ends with an "I love you" at the end. Buffy always speaks to Lorne in French. I don't know why, except that for some reason her relationship with him seems so private, so terribly intimate, that she does not want to share. He certainly can speak English perfectly well. I eavesdropped on a few of their conversations when she was in my home, rude of me, I know. He sings to her, lullabies in French, Gaelic, English, you name it. One time I heard him singing Lady Marmalade to her. He has an unbelievably beautiful voice.   
  
She has one other gentleman who calls. I've never caught his name because they always speak in some language I do not recognize. They seem to have a rather rocky relationship since their calls often end with Buffy shouting what I can only guess is demon profanity at him and hanging up. But other times she speaks to him in long quiet conversations as if he is the only thing keeping her alive and sane. I've never seen the man in question, she doesn't mention him to any of us – I've asked Willow and Xander.   
  
She has said nothing of her last battle with Angelus, nothing of what transpired over the summer. I am afraid to ask, afraid the dam will break and I will have to deal with the flood of emotions that roil behind those lovely hazel eyes. I'm afraid I'm terrible at dealing with strong emotions, especially from a woman. My slayer is breaking, from the inside out, and her lifeline is not her watcher. I envy these two men who seem to have a piece of her that I cannot reach, but I'm unwilling to make the first move. I am unsure how much she remembers of me, truly. I do not think she's lying about the amnesia, because so many of her actions betray the memory loss. I can only hope that she will eventually choose to confide in me. 


	5. The girl she is now

Buffy was running through her stretching exercises. Giles was reluctant to do any heavy training with her today, having caught her in yet another vomit inducing nightmare earlier in the day. Only Oz was in the library today, his hair a shock of red that Giles suspected was not too far from its natural color. Recently Oz had spent a lot of time with Buffy, and his presence seemed, strangely enough, to soothe her. Giles planned to do a few focusing exercises with Buffy and turn her loose. Amazingly, considering how weak she seemed, her slayer senses seemed honed to a fine edge. He had never hoped to have her develop them so fully, and she had, over the summer, turned them into a weapon to be reckoned with. She could fight him blindfolded, as if she could see without eyes. He had even fought her with blunted swords, blindfolded, and she had bested him with no effort, and the tiniest smirk, as if to say, "Gotcha." She could track him through the woods outside Sunnydale, even if he had nearly an hour's head start and used a bit of magic to conceal his tracks. She had caught him unawares, slipping past the wards he had set as if they weren't even there. She had wrapped a garrote around his throat before he even knew she was present. "You're dead, Watcher-mine."   
  
"I've heard from my informants that Spike is back in town, gunning to be master again." Giles tossed the information out casually, hoping to catch her by surprise. "Have you seen him?"   
  
Buffy moved from one stretch to another. "He's not hunting here. Not humans, anyway."   
  
Oz raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.   
  
"Any sign of Drusilla?"   
  
"Nope, none."   
  
Giles turned his attention to Oz, who shrugged. "Haven't sniffed her about. I don't think she's around."   
  
Giles watched Oz closely. "What of Angelus?"   
  
Buffy paled visibly, turning her back to him to hide her reaction. Oz answered for her. "Nope."   
  
"You should take care if Spike is about. He's not a vampire to be taken lightly. Even without Drusilla, he's easily strong enough to take the master's position here."   
  
"I think Jarnisa has things well in hand." Jarnisa was the vampiress who had stepped in to fill the vacuum left behind by the departure of clan Aurelius from Sunnydale. She was strong, and wily, but showed no interest in doing more than holding the city. She had not made any moves for the hellmouth itself, and things appeared to be at an uncomfortable stalemate.   
  
"If Spike's back in town, we've got trouble."   
  
Buffy gave a sarcastic snort that Giles thought was a bit fake. "Ya think?"   
  
"Sunnydale may be on a hellmouth, but it's not a big enough town to satisfy two masters from different clans. If we don't eliminate one of them, we will have an all-out war on our hands."   
  
"So, what, I should walk into Jarnisa's well-guarded lair and ask her what her intentions are? Sounds like suicide to me. She's not that powerful, but she's smart, and she's given me no real reason to take her out."   
  
"So go for Spike."   
  
"And I tell you again, he's not hunting here." Buffy stopped one stretch and entered into another. "He's not turned anyone, his mark is not on any victims I've checked. If he wants to hang out in his little crypt with a view or guzzle beers and play kitten poker at Willy's, I've got no argument with him."   
  
"So you've seen him."   
  
"Sure, I've seen him. Even Oz here has seen him. He's not hiding." Buffy reached for the water bottle and drank from it.   
  
Giles fought down his temper. "You've said nothing to me."   
  
Buffy shrugged. "You didn't ask."   
  
"So when are you going to get around to staking him, Buffy?" Oz coughed into his coke, but said nothing. Buffy shot him a disgusted look.   
  
"You want to know the truth, Giles?"   
  
Giles was quickly losing the battle with his anger. "A little truth would be nice."   
  
"Truth is, he's too strong for me. If I go for him, he'll just kill me. I can't take him right now. So unless you've got a prophecy in one of those books of yours that says the world will come to a crashing halt unless I take out Spike, it's not going to happen." Buffy stood up from the floor, pulling her leather riding chaps from the table and wrapping them around her legs, zipping them up and buckling the waist. "Come on, Oz, I can stretch at home. I'll go fetch our helmets from the locker if you want a ride."   
  
Oz cracked his first grin. "A ride would be nice." He said 'nice' with a small growl, the way a man would talk about good sex.   
  
Buffy smirked. "You like my bike, do you?"   
  
"Hey, it's a nice bike."   
  
Buffy left the library, leaving Oz alone with Giles. "I don't understand her anymore."   
  
"She's weak." Oz gave him a hopeless look. "She's getting a bit stronger, doesn't smell like death anymore, but she's food and she knows it."   
  
"That weak? Does she confide in you? What the hell's going on with her?"   
  
"I'm her roommate, I know things. But they're not my secrets to tell."   
  
Giles felt as though he were picking his jaw off the floor. "You're living with her?"   
  
"I share a house with her. Have since August when my parents kicked me out. I ran into her at her job in L.A."   
  
"What does she do there?"   
  
Oz tossed his empty coke towards the trashcan halfway across the library. It bounced off the front desk and landed neatly in the can. "Tends bar at a club. The Dingoes played there a few times over the summer."   
  
Giles pointed out. "She's not old enough to tend bar."   
  
"It's not the sort of bar where her age matters."   
  
"So you knew where she was and didn't say anything."   
  
"She was a mess, Giles. When the nuns kicked her out of the monastery, she came to L.A. Lorne took her in, gave her a home and a job. She disappears for nearly a week, and crawls back nearly dead. I tell you, I've known Lorne two years, and he's seen a lot, but I've never seen him in the state he was in when she came back He closed the bar and didn't leave her side for two solid weeks. That's an awful lot of money he walked away from."   
  
"And you didn't think to tell me any of this?"   
  
"You weren't in any shape to help her, and she didn't even know her own name. She doesn't remember me, really. Not from before she disappeared. Most of what she appears to remember is from what I told her about her life before. When she describes things to me, she remembers flashes of images, what she sees in dreams. I'm not sure if she remembers you at all. I showed her your apartment, wrote that letter for her to copy, sent her to you."   
  
That was more information than Giles had managed to gather before, and from the most stoic of the Scoobies. "So Lorne's a good sort, then?"   
  
"The best." Oz stood from the table, headed for the door where Buffy could be glimpsed coming down the hall. "For all that she seems the same on the surface, she's not. If you want to get to know her, start over and get to know the girl she is now. She's pretty cool." 


	6. Werewolves and Watchers

Three a.m. It was three bloody a.m. and the doorbell was ringing. Who on earth would ring his doorbell at three in the morning? Giles pulled on his robe, sleepily noticing the full moon which flooded the window into his flat as he pulled the door open to reveal Buffy, bleeding from several wounds on her arms and back and vomiting into the bushes beside his door. She wiped her mouth as she stood up shakily. "I'm sorry, Giles. I fell asleep and only got out to patrol at one in the morning. Mom really doesn't like me patrolling."   
  
"Buffy, what happened?"   
  
"Werewolf – couldn't bring myself to kill it, and it decided to take a piece of me. I don't know how I got away. I just ran. Your house was closer than mine. I don't think I can run any more." She was gasping, and as he led her into the house to seat her on the couch, she shook her head again. "Toilet." With that, she fled to the bathroom, and Giles heard retching sounds and a loud crack as she banged her head on the john. He joined her in the bathroom, holding her head as the remains of her supper left her stomach. "Well, that's a big yuck." She wiped her mouth with toilet paper and flushed the commode. "You don't have a toothbrush, do you?" Giles fished around under the sink, passing her a fresh toothbrush and toothpaste. As Buffy stood over the sink, she swooned, and Giles steadied her by wrapping an arm around her waist as she brushed her teeth and washed her face. Giles led her back to the couch and returned to the bathroom for a washcloth and a first aid kit.   
  
He began cleaning her wounds and threw his hands in dismay. "Why don't you just jump in the shower and clean up? The bleeding has pretty much stopped; it looks worse than it really is. The scratches aren't that deep. I'll just go fetch you a change of clothes."   
  
Buffy looked at her filthy torn shirt and groaned. "The Council should pay me for all the clothes I go through." She tried to stand up but fell back onto the couch. "I'm not sure I can stand up for a shower. I'm wiped out." Giles returned to cleaning the wounds on her back and arms.   
  
Placing a bandage on the deepest scratch on her back, Giles walked over the closet and grabbed a blanket and tossed it to Buffy. "Sleep. We'll talk in the morning."   
  
~***~   
  
Buffy was perched on one end of the sofa, gazing at her amused bare-chested Watcher who was lounging on the opposite end. She could feel his warm feet pressed against her and they were both snuggled under the blanket. As she sipped her steaming mug of tea, he told her, "You are quite lovely in the morning, my dear."   
  
Flashing an impish grin, "Flattery will get you everywhere." She reached out a leg and tickled him gently with her toes.   
  
"Have pity on a poor old man who was chased about the bedroom half the night. At least, let me have some tea first."   
  
"Very well, read to me." Buffy took a bite of the cranberry scone that she had balanced between her knees as Giles retrieved the "Harry Potter" and begin telling her of the search for the wand at Olivander's.   
  
"Hmm." Buffy mused, interrupting Giles' reading. "I wonder what sort of wand I would have?"   
  
"Willow, of course, love. What else?" Giles raised an eyebrow at her.   
  
"And the core?"   
  
"Gryphon hair. From the mane. Gryphons are quite loyal, and protective, like your Xander."   
  
"Never fought a gryphon. Wonder how you kill one?"   
  
"You don't kill gryphons, they are creatures of the light. No need to kill one."   
  
"Wish I had a wand, wave it at a vampire and 'Poof!", no more vampy."   
  
"If it were so simple, we'd have no need for Slayers and I'd be back at the British Museum."   
  
"And I'd miss out on my lovely scone." Buffy leaned back and listened as Giles read on about Hagrid and Harry shopping for school things at Diagon Alley. As she relaxed, the voice faded into the gravelly one of her first Watcher.   
  
"Betrayer! You failed me!" As Buffy startled, she watched in horror as Giles' face morphed into the accusing face of Merrick, who then faded into dust. She woke up, screaming Merrick's name, as sunlight streamed through the curtains of Giles' apartment.   
  
"No! I didn't! What have I done?" Buffy snatched towards the dust motes surrounding her trying to bring back Merrick, wondering sleepily why he was so angry with her, how she had offended him.   
  
Giles, hearing Buffy's panicked scream and peeking down the stairway, saw his slayer grasping at air in the early morning light, pulling open one of her wounds from the previous night. "Buffy!" He raced down the stairs, grabbing her wrists to stop her flailing.   
  
Buffy truly woke, seeing Giles' face mirroring her panic with loving concern. A wave of nausea hit her. "Oh, god! I'm going to be sick!" She ran to the bathroom, retching uncontrollably. Her stomach, however, was empty, and after a minute or two, she returned to the couch, wrapping herself in the blanket.   
  
"Do you always vomit after this dream?" Giles was surprised that a dream could evoke such a violent reaction in his normally stoic slayer. She usually reported dreams impassively.   
  
"I guess. It gives me the wiggins."   
  
"Can you tell me about it? Was it the same as the one in the library the other day?"   
  
"Similar, not the same." Buffy shook her head, trying to clear Merrick's visage from her mind. "They are sort of embarrassing."   
  
"I see. Then they are sexual in nature." Giles placed the card on the table, hoping to prompt Buffy into discussing the dream.   
  
"No, more like cozy. Intimate. Not sexual, really. No nudity."   
  
"Why are they so upsetting? Can you describe the participants?"   
  
"Me." Buffy made a show of picking lint off the quilt. "And you."   
  
Buffy watched interest flicker on her watcher's face. "What happens?" Buffy reached for the Watcher's legs, noticing that in his haste to come down the stairs, he had not put on a shirt. She stretched his legs out on the sofa, settling herself down near his feet, as she had been in the dream. She loosened the blanket, draping it over their legs, as it had been in her dream. "This doesn't seem to be sufficient to send you running for the nearest loo," he pointed out with a hint of amusement.   
  
Buffy shook her head. "We were talking, and drinking tea. Eating scones for breakfast."   
  
"Sounds pleasant enough to me. There must be more to it. What are we talking about?"   
  
Buffy raised an eyebrow at him, and stiffened. She looked at her feet to regain her nerve. "You were teasing me. In my dream, that is. You told me I looked nice in the morning. You make a joke about being old."   
  
From Buffy's body language, Giles could well imagine what sort of talk was happening. "And this is sufficient to send you running to the water closet. I assure you I'm not that old."   
  
At Giles' insulted look, Buffy responded quickly, "No. I like this part of the dream. I told you they start out pleasant, didn't I? In every dream, we're cozy-like, and you pick up a book and read to me. I have this feeling of perfect contentment."   
  
Giles was both relieved and surprised. "Well, perhaps we should go shopping for a book today. Any particular book in mind?"   
  
"It's always the same book."   
  
"Really? How odd."   
  
"Harry Potter. I read it last summer while I was recuperating."   
  
Giles barked out a laugh. "Surely you're joking." He reminded himself that the end result of the dreams was a vomiting Slayer.   
  
"Well, in my dream, you like it. And I like the sound of your voice reading it to me. And I get lulled into a sort of contented dreamy state. Then your voice changes." Buffy startled, her fear returning as she remembered his face change. "I look up. Excuse me." Another wave of nausea hit, and Buffy curled up into a tight ball, trying to ride it out. Giles watched helplessly as Buffy gagged. When she regained her composure, he motioned for her to continue. She whispered, "Merrick."   
  
"Merrick?"   
  
"And he turns to dust, like a vamp. Only he's telling me how I've betrayed him, my calling. I keep trying to pull him back, tell him, well..." Buffy trailed off, not sure how to explain the gripping fear she feels at Merrick's disapproving gaze. "How you must hate me."   
  
"You inspire many emotions in me, Buffy, but hatred is not one of them."   
  
"But you were dragged from your lovely job at the British Museum to babysit a stupid airhead California girl who couldn't keep her first Watcher alive."   
  
"Well, that's the least flattering description of my occupation I have ever heard."   
  
"He always looks so disappointed in me. I can't bear it. I can't bear the thought that you might feel the same."   
  
"I'm sure Merrick was not disappointed in you. Not in the way you are describing. Every Watcher knows the risks of the job. And you are amazingly talented, both as a Slayer and as a young woman."   
  
Buffy reached under the blanket, touching her fingers to Giles', which felt warm and soothed her anxiety. "Have you read his diaries?"   
  
"Merrick's?" Buffy nodded. "No, they were lost when he was killed. All I've seen are his reports to the Council, very dry."   
  
Buffy gripped Giles' hand; her own was trembling. "He despised me."   
  
"That's ridiculous. And why would you think that?"   
  
"I've read them, his diaries, at least the first two. There are seven. The seventh is incomplete."   
  
Giles bolted upright. "You have Merrick's diaries? Where are they?"   
  
"At home, in my room. I found them in a hidden drawer of my weapons chest. I must have taken them from his home when he was killed. Honestly, I don't remember. They are very difficult to read."   
  
"I'd imagine so. A Watcher's death is very difficult for a Slayer. It is rare for a Slayer to outlive her Watcher by more than a month or so. You are quite remarkable in that regard."   
  
"No, not that. They're in Latin. And I can't make heads or tails out of most of it. He must have studied Latin for years." Buffy slumped back on the sofa, discouraged.   
  
"Good Lord, and this is what has you all bent out of shape?"   
  
"I suppose, it's some of it. I don't know."   
  
"It's Saturday. Why don't you run and get a shower, jog home and bring those books back. I'll see if I can't scrounge some tea and scones for breakfast. I'm sure that if you read my first diary, you would not like what I had to say. Let's see what Merrick really wrote about you." 


	7. Mothers and Daughters

Buffy let herself in the back door of the house, into the kitchen. Her mother was bustling around the kitchen, starting coffee and mixing pancakes for breakfast. "Hi, honey. I was about to come get you up." Joyce looked her daughter up and down, noticing the newly washed hair and the oversized oxford Buffy was wearing. Her patience snapped. "But, you weren't up there were you? Where have you been? Have you been sneaking out again?"  
  
"It's called patrolling, Mom, and, yes, I went out last night." Buffy reached for a slice of bacon off the platter on the island. "Mmm. Yummy, Mom. If I didn't already have plans for breakfast, I'd eat the whole plate."  
  
"Buffy, I know I didn't buy that shirt for you, so maybe you'd like to tell me what you are doing in a man's shirt? You're not back with that Angel boy, are you?"  
  
Buffy paled at the mention of Angel's name. "No, Mom, I'm not with that "Angel" boy. It's Giles' shirt. I got hurt last night, wound up at his place, and my shirt was ripped to shreds."  
  
"Why didn't you come home and let me help you?"  
  
Buffy rolled her eyes and lifted her shirt to show her mother the healing scratches on her back. "I was mauled by a werewolf over by his house. It was closer. Bleeding Slayers attract vamps like piranhas; I needed to get inside. If I'd been near home, I would have been at home. Any more questions?"   
  
Joyce blanched at the deep scratches on her daughters back. "Did you kill it?"  
  
"Kill what?"  
  
"The werewolf."  
  
"No, I don't kill werewolves. I'll try to go find it tonight and tranq it. If I find it, Giles and I will talk to the poor devil in the morning. That reminds me, I need to call Willow."  
  
"You don't kill a beast that does that to you?"   
  
Buffy turned to head out of the kitchen and up the stairs. "No. Not if I don't have to. It might be Oz. If not, it's someone's husband, or wife, or child, or parent. Now, I need to get back to Giles' with some books for a study session."  
  
"Oz is a werewolf?" At Buffy's nod, Joyce shuddered. "I never would have thought. He's seemed like such a nice boy."  
  
"Oz is a nice boy. He got bit by his three year old cousin and voila, instant werewolf. It's a disease, not something evil."  
  
"Buffy, I just want to know what's going on with you. You've been back for six weeks now, and I hardly know whether you are coming or going. You had a relationship with Angel, and I didn't meet him until it was long over. I don't understand your life, and I'm your mother. Can we work something out? Meet halfway?"  
  
Buffy stopped halfway up the stairs and looked back at Joyce. "Like what? What do you mean?"  
  
  
  
"Well, maybe you could leave a note when you patrol, when you might be back. Then I can at least call Mr. Giles if you aren't in your bed in the morning. We can have a rule that you return from patrol by ten on school nights. I worry about you. I'm afraid you're going to disappear again, and I won't know if you are dead or alive. Thursday night I was petrified you wouldn't come home, and you arrive, past midnight, looking as if was completely normal."  
  
Buffy sighed, and headed back down the stairs. "Thursday night I was at church. I didn't leave to patrol until nearly ten-thirty, and I found a vamp nest in the warehouse district. That's what brought me home past midnight." She pulled up a chair at the kitchen island and looked her mother in the eye. "If you truly want to, meet halfway or something, maybe the three of us can work something out. I'm just as tired of the sneaking and lying as you are of wondering where I am. So let me think about it today, maybe talk to Giles, see where it goes. Okay?"  
  
"You were at church? I'm not sure I believe that." Joyce folded her arms across her chest, giving Buffy an appraising look. She finally relented. "If you say so, we said we were going to meet halfway. Would you like me to drive you back over to Mr. Giles' apartment?"   
  
"That would be nice. Thanks, Mom." Buffy grabbed a piece of paper and pen from next to the kitchen phone. She handed her mom the slip of paper. Joyce read it; it said "Father Michael Patrick O'Hara" and had a phone number on it. "What's this?"  
  
"My alibi for Thursday night, check it if you want." Buffy headed up the stairs.  
  
--------  
  
The phone rang. Giles walked from the kitchen to the living room to retrieve it. "Good morning, Rupert Giles here."   
  
"Rupert? It's Quentin Travers."  
  
Giles rolled his eyes. "Lovely to hear from you, Quentin. How may I be of service?"  
  
"Wondering when we might be receiving another report from you. Your Slayer appears to be missing in action."  
  
"She's on duty. I'm expecting her in a few minutes, in fact. I sent a report out three days ago."  
  
"Very good, very good. I'll look forward to reading it. They are always so... entertaining."   
  
Giles was impatient to get off the phone. "Well. Good then. Talk to you another day." Giles bent over to remove the scones from the oven while balancing the phone between his shoulder and ear.  
  
"Rupert."  
  
"Yes, Quentin."  
  
"Rosita Morales was killed last week in Brazil."  
  
Giles' hand touched the oven door, burning his fingers. "Oh, bloody hell! Just a minute." He dropped the phone, pulled the scones out of the oven, and put them on top of the stove. He picked up the phone again, putting his fingers under cold running water. "Sorry, burned myself cooking. Rosita is dead? Do we know how?"  
  
"Correct. It appears to be the work of our old friends William and Drusilla."  
  
"Another has been called, then?"  
  
"Yes. A daughter of a friend of yours, I think."  
  
Giles left the kitchen and sat down on the sofa, drawing a deep breath. "Oh, really? Who?"  
  
"Susan Amesbury's daughter, Hannah."  
  
  
  
Giles ran his hand through his hair; Susan had been a sometime lover and a powerful witch. Susan Amesbury, yes, I know of whom you are speaking. Lovely woman. How can I help?"  
  
"When Susan found out, she took the daughter into hiding. We cannot find her. I suspect she is using magic to conceal her whereabouts from the Council."  
  
"Well, I have just exhausted my personal resources searching for my own Slayer, only to have her turn up on my doorstep six weeks ago. I'm not sure I can help you find this other one."  
  
"We need to locate the father. Then perhaps we can find the child."  
  
"How old is Hannah?"  
  
"Twelve."  
  
"Twelve. Good God, Quentin, if she were mine, I'd be hiding her, too."  
  
Giles could hear the audible sigh on the other end of the phone. "Is she yours? Are you hiding her? We know of the nature of your relationship with her mother."  
  
Giles thought back over his times with Susan. "I doubt it. I'm not hiding her, Quentin. Susan wouldn't need my help for that. I suppose I could do a little research and see if I'm the father. Susan never indicated that Hannah was mine. I can look through my diaries. And there are certain spells which may reveal..." Giles trailed off. "I admit I'm a bit loathe to attempt to locate a child called that young."  
  
"Please make the effort. We have a few other ideas on paternity, but as galling as it is, you would be the easiest to handle."  
  
Giles removed his glasses and began cleaning them. "Yes... Well... Do you have a birth date for this child?"  
  
"September twenty-first. Rupert, since your little Eyghon incident last year, most of Susan's other lovers have been eliminated, making it quite impossible to use them for tracking the Slayer."  
  
Giles pulled off his glasses and began cleaning them, remembering a few pleasant meetings with Susan 'for old times sake.' "Ah, I see. And so you believe that it is one of us."   
  
"Yes. And I sincerely doubt that Ethan would be cooperative. Quite the opposite, in fact."  
  
Giles imagined that Travers was correct. "No. I don't suppose Ethan would be cooperative at all."  
  
"Giles, I must ask you, do you have any more information about what happened prior to Buffy's departure? Or while she was gone?"  
  
"No. She will not speak of it. I have tried."  
  
"We have lost three Slayers in as many months, I must know if Angelus is alive, if he is responsible."  
  
"I will explain to her the importance."  
  
"Very good. I will look forward to hearing from you. Thank you, Rupert."   
  
The phone went dead. Giles looked at the phone, "Pillock."  
  
-------  
  
"Anne." The name was whispered gently in her ear. Buffy felt two cool arms wrap around her waist, reaching under Giles' shirt. "What did you think you were doing last night?"  
  
"Getting the crap kicked out of me, I guess." Buffy leaned into the embrace, hearing a soft chuckle. "Kind of stupid, huh?"  
  
  
  
"Unnecessary. It wasn't Oz, you know. Think about the smell of him." Buffy considered the scent of the previous night's werewolf and nodded. The werewolf had not smelled anything like Oz.   
  
"Hungry. Hurts." Buffy watched as a clawed finger raked across the opposite wrist, drawing blood. The wrist was brought to her mouth, and Buffy sucked on it, hungrily gulping the cool coppery blood. "Mmmm." She could feel the broken skin on her back knitting itself together as her strength returned.  
  
"If you had just come home, I could have helped you sooner."   
  
"Too weak, threw up my supper in the bushes." Buffy returned to her suckling, feeling the contentment of being nearly satiated.   
  
"This is hard for you, the changes? Did the Watcher take care of you?" A hand snaked between her legs, indicating his meaning.  
  
Buffy dropped the wrist and looked into the face of her companion. "Giles? Take care of me? You must be joking. He doesn't think of me that way."   
  
Buffy heard a clucking noise in her ear. "Good Lord, what do they teach those Watchers these days? In my day, we were told that the Slayer came home hungry and ready for a good shagging. And from what I can tell, that was good advice."  
  
Buffy flashed an impish grin at her lover, tugging at his belt buckle. "You've taken care of the hungry part, some of it, anyway. Want you. Now." Giles' shirt was quickly pulled over her head, and clothes went flying as the two dived quickly into the bed. Time passed, as contented murmurs changed into quiet urgent pleas, and, finally, a pair of muffled shouts echoed in Buffy's room.  
  
Joyce's voice echoed up the stairs. "Buffy? Honey, are you okay?"   
  
"Yeah, Mom! Just can't find a book. Wait a minute." Buffy pulled the covers back over her legs and trailed a hand along her lover's stomach. "I was going back to Giles' with some books. Mom is going to drive me." She propped herself up on one elbow, studying his face. "I miss home."  
  
"I know. But there was no place for us there. It was time to leave."  
  
"But Rose." A slender finger was pressed to her to her lips, stopping the next words.  
  
"Was grown, and married, and had children of her own. She didn't need us anymore." Her lover trailed a finger along her hipbone, tracing small circles. "You must either do your best to adjust to this life, or we can leave, and make a new life elsewhere."  
  
"I know, I know. But it's still hard."  
  
"You're not doing yourself any favors keeping all your secrets so close. The strain is killing you."  
  
"I don't remember anyone here. Only faces and images. I don't know how to be a child again. How can I trust them?"  
  
"By taking small steps. Pick someone, your mom, your watcher, the little witch. And talk to them, really talk. These people used to be your strength. If someone was gunning for you, they first went for them. They may surprise you. Oz took everything well, didn't he?"  
  
"But Oz, is well, Oz. Nothing fazes him." Her lover gave a knowing chuckle and tickled her gently. "Hungry, Sweetie?" She turned her head to one side, offering her neck to him.  
  
"Always hungry for you, love." The human visage was dropped as the vampire bit gently into her neck, cradling her close in his arms. 


	8. Blood Ties

Giles set the tray of tea and scones in front of Buffy. "I must ask a favor of you."  
  
Buffy reached for the nearest scone on the coffee table and took a big bite. "What do you need?"  
  
Giles sat beside her on the couch, removing his glasses to clean them. "A sample of your blood."   
  
Buffy wracked her brain for an explanation for why Giles would make such an unusual request. The only reason she had heard of using blood was for binding rituals. "Why? Are you going to bind me? What are you going to bind me to?"  
  
Giles blanched at her statement. "Bind you? Whatever for?" He studied her face quizzically, "What do you know of binding rituals?" He resumed cleaning his glasses with his handkerchief.  
  
"Enough. Merrick considered it. It's toward the end of the second diary." Giles had returned his glasses to his face and began preparing his cup of tea. "Didn't think I was worthy." Buffy picked at her scone. "Oh, God! When will this nausea ever stop? Excuse me." Buffy ran to the bathroom. Giles heard her retching, then the sound of water running. "May I borrow the phone?"  
  
"Sure, help yourself."   
  
  
  
Giles watched as Buffy dialed and spoke into the phone. "Will? I need you. Okay, I'll run out to the car. Fine. Ten minutes? Yes. Bye." Buffy returned to the seat next to Giles. "Ten minutes."  
  
"Willow is bringing you something?"  
  
"Uh. No. Not Willow, Will. He's bringing my medicine. He's a friend from L.A." Buffy curled up on seat next to Giles. "So what's the sitch? What do you need my blood for?"  
  
"A new slayer was called last week, and her mother is hiding her. I was going to use your blood for a locator spell."  
  
Buffy considered this. Giles looked nervous. She didn't entirely trust his motives. "To find the other slayer?"  
  
"Yes."   
  
"Nothing else? Why not use a lock of my hair?"  
  
"Because the slayer mutation is found only in the blood. And I think that using your blood will break through any spells that her mother may have used to hide her. I had no other intentions with your blood, I swear it."  
  
Buffy sank from her perch on the couch to her knees on the floor before her watcher. "Giles, give me your hands." Giles placed his large hands into her tiny ones, watching with curiosity as Buffy turned his hands over, tracing the veins on the back, and then returned them, palms up in front of her. "May I?" At his nod, she then leaned her face into his hands, breathing deeply. She moved past the smell of the tea and scones on his fingers, and the lingering scent of his aftershave, to the pulsing scent of his blood beneath the surface of his hand. It was strong, and pure, and there was no hint of subterfuge in it. Considering what she found, she said to him. "Eyghon is gone."   
  
"Yes. I would think so."  
  
Again drinking in his essence, she peered at him. "You are gay."  
  
Giles chuckled and shook his head. "No."  
  
"Ethan."  
  
Giles nodded. "Oh. I see. We were lovers, once."   
  
"Many times."  
  
Giles nodded again. "We did a lot of magic together, blood magic. Other kinds, as well. Unwise of me."  
  
"Yes." Buffy considered this information. "Can you break those bindings?"  
  
"I don't know, I've never considered it. Where have you learned these things?"  
  
Buffy smirked at him. "Slayer's handbook?"  
  
Giles laughed uncomfortably. "I threw it out for a reason. And blood magic is not in the slayer's handbook." He grasped her hands and turned them palm side up within his. "Perhaps I should return the favor?"  
  
"I doubt you will discover much. Slayer senses, you know."  
  
Giles smirked at her innocence and gently traced the veins on the backs of her hands. He then began to lift her hands to his face. "You'd be surprised. Blood sense is not uniquely a slayer's domain."  
  
Buffy snatched her hands from him, eyeing him warily. "I don't know."  
  
Giles looked crestfallen. "After all this time, you do not trust me?"  
  
"I do not trust myself."  
  
  
  
At the sound of a car horn, Giles watched in dismay as Buffy fled the room for the car which was parked in his driveway. She jumped into the car and shut the door behind her. "I'm dying. I threw up, again. Anytime I think of him I start heaving. Help me."   
  
"Here?" A wrist was proffered, a talon raised above it.   
  
Buffy moved closer to the vampire, sitting upon his lap and leaning into his neck. "No, closer to your heart, need more. Starving."   
  
Without a moment's hesitation the talon sliced open his neck and Buffy latched on, drinking in great gulps. The vampire's hands caressed her buttocks as she fed on him. She felt her panties being moved aside and lifted her hips to assist him. She heard a rumbling growl in his chest. "I will have to hunt tonight."  
  
Buffy stopped suckling for a moment. "Fine. Need more." She wrapped her arms around the vampire's chest, rocking in time with him. Soon, she climaxed with a shout. "Will!" She collapsed against his chest, breathing in great gulps of air.  
  
She heard a contented chuckle from her lover. "So the slayer gives her leave for me to hunt?"  
  
"Stay away from my friends and don't touch my mom. And I don't want to hear about it, either."   
  
"Hear no evil. What a quaint notion."  
  
"Exactly. I can't exactly go staking you, can I?"  
  
"Not unless another vampire of the clan takes my place. And at this point, I doubt a fledgling would do."  
  
"Angel then."  
  
"Or Dru."  
  
Buffy made a face. "That's all the masters left in the clan?"  
  
"Yes. You and Angel made quick work of the rest, before." Buffy snuggled up to the cool chest, while the vampire's arms enfolded her in an embrace. "No more meat, Anne, it makes you ill. You cannot eat mortal flesh anymore. Your metabolism has changed." The vampire grinned at her, "Messy eater." He licked the dribbled blood off her face.  
  
"Got it. No more bacon for Buffy. What about dairy?"  
  
"It should be fine until your teeth emerge, then no more."  
  
"So I'll go all 'grr' like you?" Buffy mimed him vamping out.  
  
"No. It's different."  
  
"Huh." Buffy pointed at the rear view mirror. "You have a reflection."  
  
"I do? Really?" The vampire looked into the mirror, seeing his face for the first time in over a century. It was barely a shadow, but it was there. "Good Lord, and you still tolerate me?"  
  
Ignoring his question, Buffy answered, "Giles wants my blood. For a ritual."  
  
"So he's finally going to bind you? Not a real good idea right now. Unless you want to be craving his blood, too. No. Very bad idea. He's mortal." The vampire took her face in his hands. "Do not do it."  
  
"He says he wants to locate the new slayer. She's missing. He says my blood can be used to find her." Buffy took the vampire's hands, and lifted them to her face. "I didn't find any subterfuge. He's not going to bind me with it." She dropped her lover's hands. "He was going to return the favor. Will, can he read my blood? Will he read you in me?"  
  
"I don't know. He's a powerful sorcerer, I suspect he will detect me, but he may not know what he is sensing. He may sense any others you have known as well as me. Angel, of course."  
  
"Giles, a sorcerer? Really? I know he dabbles in stuff. All those books, but..."  
  
"Do you trust Giles? Truly?" Buffy considered, and then nodded slowly. "Then let him sense you, feed him if he wishes it. That will bind him to you, but you will still have your freedom. But warn him first. And do not do the spell without me present. Use Red, and I'll be the fourth. That will give it balance, two males, two females." He kissed her on her head and tousled her hair. "Now go, your Watcher is waiting."  
  
Buffy returned to the apartment, straightening her skirt as she walked up the sidewalk. The car, a dark-tinted red Mercedes, pulled out of the driveway as quickly as it had entered. She entered the apartment to find Giles, exactly as she had left him thirty minutes before, deep in thought. His tea was untouched. "Giles?"  
  
Her watcher looked up at her. "Mmm. Yes, Buffy?"  
  
"Do you still want to..." She held her hands up to him, offering them to him. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude."   
  
Giles took her hands as she sank to the floor before him. "I take no offense. You are right to be cautious."  
  
Giles began tracing her veins, as he had done before, feeling the blood pulsing beneath. When he began to lift her hands, Buffy hesitated. "Giles?"  
  
"Yes, Buffy."   
  
"I'm not the same as I was. Before." She looked into his green-flecked eyes, and reached up to remove his glasses so she could see them more clearly. "Last summer. When I was gone, I did things. I made some choices you will not understand. I made a different life for myself. One that didn't include you. I didn't plan to return here. But I stand by my choices. I am not bound to you." At his nod, she continued. "There have been... others... after Angel."  
  
Giles looked at her sympathetically. "Is that how you supported yourself?"  
  
"No." Buffy gasped. "Giles, no. You think I prostituted myself? No. I worked as a waitress at a diner during the day and you know I worked at a bar at night. It paid well enough."  
  
"Oh. I see. So what, are you telling me you took some other lovers while you were in L.A.? I trust you were careful."  
  
"Yes." Reaching into her back pocket, she pulled out a knife. She handed it to Giles, and placed her hands in his. "Your decision." Giles placed the knife beside him on the sofa, and took her hands up again. "I'm afraid."  
  
He traced her veins once again. "Of what, Buffy?"  
  
"Of what you will think of me. That you will hate me."  
  
"This Will, is he one of your lovers?" Buffy shuddered under his touch, feeling both her pulse and his, matching rhythms. She nodded. Giles placed a gentle kiss on each wrist. "Does he know that you are doing this?" Buffy nodded again. "He does not object." Buffy shook her head. "Do you want to know what I am sensing?" Buffy nodded again. "Strength, slayer strength, that is the strongest thing in your blood. And Angel, that is to be expected. He was your first. And Willow? Perhaps you mixed blood in a fight at some point. Yes, that is it, I can tell. And another lover, one you liked very much. You trusted him." At Buffy's nod, he continued. "Will?"  
  
"No. Probably not. Lorne. He works at the bar with me."  
  
  
  
"Oh." Giles returned to his reading, speaking calmly. "Lorne was not completely human, was he?" Buffy shook her head. "You work at a demon bar?" Buffy nodded. Giles considered this new information. "I sense Drusilla in you. I wonder how that can be?" Buffy shrugged. "You have not taken Drusilla as a lover, have you?"   
  
"No. I do not know where she is."  
  
Giles sensed subterfuge for the first time. "That is not true."  
  
Buffy pointed towards the south. "She is somewhere, that way. A long way though."   
  
"You can home onto Drusilla?" Buffy nodded. "What about Willow?"   
  
Buffy considered, then answered. "She is somewhere between her home and downtown. Outside. Walking."   
  
"And Angel?"  
  
Buffy shook her head, feeling her face get wet. "He is gone. No direction. Will says that means he is still in another dimension. It would feel different if he were dead. I don't feel nothing, I can still feel pain from him."  
  
"What about Lorne, can you sense where he is?"  
  
Buffy thought for a moment, then smiled happily. "He is in his apartment over the bar, enjoying himself thoroughly. Wish I were there." Sensing that Lorne had detected her thoughts of him, she giggled. "There are advantages to a telepathic lover."  
  
"Yes, I am aware of that." Wistfully thinking of his times with Ethan, Giles leaned further into her hands, tracing the lines of her palms. "Can you think of someone, perhaps, who is not your lover? Xander, maybe?" As Buffy focused her thoughts on Xander, Giles felt a small surge. "Yes, there he is."   
  
Buffy giggled again. "Smooching with Cordy. Again."  
  
"Oz?" He felt another tiny surge, and with this one Willow's signature brightened. "He is with Willow, then." Buffy nodded. "Can you focus on me, the same way?" Buffy nodded, and focused her concentration on her watcher. Giles felt the same small surge that he had felt with Oz and Xander, but when he followed his signature in her blood, he was pulled into a whirlpool current of tumbling emotions and ties and... "Stop! Think about Cordelia." Buffy returned her thoughts to Cordelia. Giles schooled his voice carefully. "I would not say we aren't bonded. The pull is very strong. I wonder how."  
  
Buffy shrugged. "The dreams, perhaps?"  
  
"Maybe. Watchers make certain oaths, blood oaths. But I would think that would affect me, not you. You shouldn't have those pulls unless you were bound either to me or to Merrick."   
  
"What about another watcher? If I were bound to him? Would that tie me to you?"  
  
"It could. But Merrick and I are the only watchers you've had."  
  
Buffy considered what he said and then shook her head. "I don't understand, then. Maybe the connection is through Will."  
  
"He is a watcher?" Giles wracked his brain for an active watcher named William, he couldn't think of one. "He's not active, then?"  
  
"No. "  
  
"Can you think about him, where is he?" Buffy thought about Will, feeling a warmth suffuse her. Giles picked up the surges in her blood, but they were churning throughout her, not a single peak as the others had been. "You have performed blood magic with him? You must know that blood magic is dangerous."  
  
Buffy shrugged. "In a way, I suppose. What's done cannot be undone."  
  
  
  
"Are you sure of that?" At her nod, Giles picked up a new signal, similar to ones he had once sensed in Ethan. Cravings. "Are you using drugs?" Buffy shook her head no. "So where is he?"  
  
"The old mansion. Library. Reading."  
  
Giles felt a cold panic seize his heart. "Can you tell more of what he is doing? What is he reading?"   
  
Buffy reached out, feeling through her bond. She felt Will's barriers lower, and he fed her the answer. "An old Watcher's diary. Anna McCary?"  
  
"There was a slayer by that name about sixty years ago. Her watcher's diaries were lost." Buffy nodded. "Did he speak to you? He knows you know what he is reading?" Buffy nodded again. "Does he know who killed her?" Receiving the answer, Buffy nodded again. "Who?"  
  
"Darla."  
  
Giles shook his head. So this Will did not know everything. "That is not what our books say. They say Drusilla did it."  
  
Again Will fed an answer to her. "Darla. She was Darla's kill. The watcher was Dru's."  
  
"And he knows this, how?"   
  
Again an answer came her way. "He was there." Giles dropped Buffy's hands and backed away from her. A few seconds later, Giles stood up and walked away from her, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand while reaching for the glasses in his pocket with the other. Buffy was crestfallen. "Do you hate me now?"  
  
"No, of course not. What have you done, Buffy? These cravings, they are for Will?" At her nod, he continued.   
  
"And Will is Spike. You have mated with him."   
  
Feeling the answer through the bond, Buffy shook her head, and whispered "No. He is mated to Drusilla. He cannot mate to me while she still lives and holds the bond."  
  
"And that is why I feel Drusilla in you." Buffy nodded, hearing Will's answer in her head. Giles grabbed her by the shoulders and hauled her up to a standing position. Buffy did not resist. "Tell me what Spike is to you!"  
  
"Everything."   
  
Giles pulled the collar of her shirt to one side, searching for bite marks. There were none. "Has he marked you? Does he feed from you?"  
  
"No. Yes. The bites heal quickly now. A few minutes at most, and they are gone."  
  
"What about those scratches from last night? Is that what he does to you? Is that why you allow him to feed from you? Is that why you ran here?"  
  
"No. It was a werewolf. He lured it away from me. I told you the truth. The scratches are gone, too." Buffy pulled her shirt back around her neck, suddenly feeling exposed.  
  
Giles looked doubtful. "Werewolf scratches don't heal so quickly. Not even for a slayer." He pulled the back of her shirt up, her back was completely free of marks, as if they had never been there before. "Why should I believe you?"  
  
"Why should I lie to you? I am sick and tired of lies. There is the knife, find out for yourself." Losing her patience, Buffy grabbed the knife off the couch and sliced her hand open. Giles watched in openmouthed shock as her skin slowly knitted itself back together before his eyes in a matter of moments, leaving only a small trail of blood behind. "I told you. I am not the same." She licked the blood off her hand, noticing that the action once again triggered the craving for blood. In an attempt to stave it off, she grabbed a scone off the table and stuffed it in her mouth.  
  
"You fed from him." Giles stated flatly. "That is why you heal so quickly."  
  
"Yes."  
  
  
  
"How much? When?"  
  
Buffy heard the answer through the bond, but decided to edit it. "Enough. Occasionally."  
  
She could hear the chuckles of the eavesdropping vampire in the bond. There was nothing 'occasional' about the cravings; they were nearly constant now.  
  
"You must stop. This is madness, Buffy! What do the two of you think you are doing? Do you even know what you have done?"  
  
"It is too late. The deed is done. I am committed to this choice. If I stop at this point, I die."  
  
"Oh, dear Lord. He's turning you."  
  
"In a manner of speaking, yes. I assure you I am still alive. And my soul, for what it's worth, is still intact."  
  
"Yes, it would be, wouldn't it?" Giles sank back into the sofa, at last realizing the ramifications of Buffy's actions. "Who knows about this?"  
  
"Lorne. Oz. Maybe Dru. She probably can feel it through her bond with Will. I doubt she likes it much."  
  
"Well, word from the Council is that she and Spike killed a slayer last week. The Council has sent out operatives searching for them."  
  
"Tell them to call it off. It may have been Dru, but it certainly wasn't Will."  
  
"I don't have that kind of power."  
  
"Sure you do. I'm the slayer, you're the watcher, and the Council answers to us."  
  
"No. It doesn't, not anymore. In the Council's eyes, you're not the slayer, Hannah is. And the Council answers to Quentin Travers."  
  
"Well, fine by me, then. I can take my old watcher's journals, and my mom, and I'll move off this god-forsaken hellmouth. And who do you think can find the new slayer first? Operatives that couldn't find me in L.A. right under their noses? Or Dru? And if I'm missing, and she's missing, who's the slayer then?"  
  
Giles folded his hands over his chest and gave her a disappointed glare. "And so you'll just run away again."  
  
"Stop! Just stop, Giles! I can't take this. Do you think this is easy for me? Oh, just great." Overcome with nausea, Buffy ran from him, heading for the bathroom.  
  
Giles stood outside the bathroom, listening to her gagging. "Buffy, do you need help?"  
  
"No. I'm calming down. I'll be okay. Can we just..." Buffy stepped out of the bathroom, taking a deep breath.   
  
"Not fight?"  
  
"Yes. Perhaps we should discuss this at a later time. When I've had time to absorb the information. Did you bring the Watcher's diaries?"  
  
"They are in my gym bag. All seven of them."  
  
"Good, I'll go get them." Lifting the bag onto the kitchen table, Giles fished out the books, and passed the bag over to Buffy. "Why don't you put on your gym clothes and warm up? Or take a jog if you feel like it? Maybe that will help you relax some. I'll look these over."  
  
Buffy giggled, "What a concept, running without being chased. Let me have one of these scones." Giles found the first of Merrick's diaries and opened it. 


	9. Bronzing

"Hiya, Buff! What's with the sweaty, glowy look?"   
  
Buffy hopped onto a stool between Xander and Oz. "Running. Went down to the school, around the college campus, up past Sunnyrest and back this way. Saw Scoobies, thought I'd stop by."   
  
Xander whipped his head around. "Something chasing you? Should we run?"   
  
"Nope, just sent out for a run by a pissed off watcher." Buffy reached for one of the cookies on the plate in the middle of the table. "Ooh. Yummy."   
  
Willow looked puzzled. "So all is not happy in Watcherland? Lots of glass scrubbing happening?"   
  
"I think he may have rubbed a hole in them. Don't worry, it'll be better. Can anyone buy me a drink? I didn't bring any cash." At Oz's nod, Buffy asked for an iced coffee and he left to buy the drink.   
  
"So, Buff, going Bronzing tonight? There's a new band playing. Oz says they're pretty good. And, well, full moon, no date."   
  
"And of course, Buffy doesn't have a date, because, well, she's just weird."   
  
Thank you, Cordy, for pointing out my chronic datelessness. Maybe I'll just take Will, here." Buffy blew Willow a kiss. Willow grinned, blowing one back.   
  
Oz returned with a drink, putting his arm around Willow. "Should I be worried?"   
  
Buffy shook her head, giving him a wink. "Nah. I'm pretty much with liking the boys, Oz. Maybe I'll ask Giles, and Willow and I can share him. A peace offering, perhaps?"   
  
Willow giggled and mimed a dance in the seat. "That could be fun, dancing with the handsome older man."   
  
Cordelia gave them both a disgusted look. "And we all know that Buffy likes the older men. Your last man was, what, two hundred something?"   
  
Buffy gave a satisfied nod. "I like my men well-seasoned. Makes them much more fun in the sack. Not that you would know anything about that. Because, that's right, no one has given you a good tumble lately." Buffy sipped her coffee. She was rewarded with a knowing look and a raised eyebrow from Oz.   
  
"And you wake up with a soulless demon on your hands, trying to kill us all."   
  
Xander slapped his hand over Cordelia's mouth. "Okay, we're ending this, now." He looked over at Buffy. "What Cordelia was trying to say, when she got a big case of no tact, was that it would be very nice to have Giles at the Bronze tonight. Please ask him."   
  
"All right, I will."   
  
-----  
  
That evening, Buffy joined Cordelia and Oz at their usual table at the Bronze. "Way to go with the skimpy outfit, Buffy." Cordelia was sipping a cappuccino and dancing in her chair to the band.   
  
"Thanks, picked it up my last trip to Rodeo Drive." Buffy twirled around in her skin-tight green mini dress in front of Xander. "Like it, Xander?" Leaning over the table, she made sure that Xander could see down the front. "Or is it too revealing?"   
  
"They're very nice." Xander sputtered in answer.   
  
Dropping the act at Cordelia's glare, Buffy hopped in the chair next to Xander and watched the front door. "Now all I need is a dance partner. Giles said he would be here about seven. What time is it?"   
  
Xander checked his watch. "Almost seven. Where is Willow?"   
  
"Giles is picking her up. I guess I'll go dance alone." Buffy jumped down from the chair and headed to the dance floor, where a dozen or so couples were dancing to piped in music.   
  
Xander watched, entranced, as her hips writhed to the music. As a few more individuals drifted to the dance floor, he noticed that Buffy had picked up a sandy-haired male partner and was dancing close to him, while smirking over his shoulder at Xander and Cordelia. The male was trailing his hands over her hips, but had his back to their table, so that Xander could not see his face. Buffy, however, was giggling at her partner, and whispering in his ear. As they turned to the music, Xander saw the man bury his face in her neck, while tightly gripping her backside in his hands. "Do... Do.." Xander coughed. "What is she doing?"   
  
Cordelia rolled her eyes in disgust. "Acting like a tramp, what else? Now are you going to dance with me, your girlfriend, or stare at Buffy's ass all night?"   
  
-----  
  
"Great, now I have dust all over my nice dress." Buffy brushed the remains of the vampire off her dress.   
  
"Let me help you with that." Buffy whirled around to see Spike standing behind her, an amused grin on his face. "Tidy kill, Anne. Liking the chopsticks in the hair trick." He reached out and brushed his hand down the back of her dress.   
  
"Yeah, well, he was too busy feeling me up to notice me nicking his wallet."   
  
Buffy tossed the wallet over to Spike who caught it neatly. He pulled the cash out of the wallet, and stuffed the empty wallet in a pocket of his leather duster. "Seven hundred. Not a bad take. How much do you want?"   
  
"Couple hundred, I guess. What do you do with the rest anyway?"   
  
"There's an account set up for you at the bank. I just launder it into there through Caritas. Lorne enters it as tips. You're one well-paid bartender."   
  
"Oh." Buffy shrugged, taking the money from him. "I guess I figured you spent the rest on stuff."   
  
Spike stuffed the remainder of the cash into his pocket. "Well, I do buy my cigarettes and booze, but my kills easily provide enough for that. I don't dip into your money."   
  
Buffy looked uncomfortable. "I hadn't thought about you taking money off your kills."   
  
"Where do you think the idea came from? Anyway, vamps carry a lot more cash than humans. Not too many banks do business on vampire hours. Here, let me help you with your hair." Spike took the chopstick from her hand and fussed a little with her hair, returning the chopstick into its proper place. "'Course, I was nicking wallets long before I was turned."   
  
Buffy graced Spike with a wry smile. "Come here, you." Spike enfolded her in his coat, embracing her from behind, planting a kiss on her neck. "Liking the dress, are we, Will?"   
  
"Liking the girl in the dress a whole lot more." Buffy felt his hands reach under the hem of her skirt, lifting it out of the way. "Mmm. No underwear. Feeling naughty?"   
  
"Very."   
  
"Ooh, look who's coming in." Buffy gazed down from the balcony at Giles and Willow entering the Bronze. Xander stood up from the table and waved at them. Giles was wearing jeans and crisply starched green dress shirt. Willow was wearing a low cut red dress that Buffy had loaned her with a dare to wear it. "What if they took a peek up here, What would they think?"   
  
"Naughty, Will. Now I doubt they would see us if they looked up here." Buffy gazed at the group that was chattering and laughing at the table. "It's pretty dark." She could see Giles looking around the Bronze, searching for someone. "Wonder who he's looking for?"   
  
"You. Better not keep him waiting."   
  
"He'll have to wait. I'm busy."   
  
-----  
  
The dark-haired girl approached the couple from the far end of the balcony. "Did anyone ever tell you it's not nice to bite the ladies?" The yellow-eyed demon fixed her with a stare and pulled back from his victim, licking the blood from his lips as his face returned to its human visage. The victim, on the other hand, was transfixed with the dancers below, not even noticing her presence. The vampire beckoned her closer with one finger, making no move to attack. The new girl inched closer, curious, wondering why the vampire showed no fear and did not attack either. "Do you know who I am?" The vampire nodded and pointed to his nose. Oh. He had smelled her. "Need a head start? I could use the exercise." The vampire reached out for her hand, shaking his head. She felt his cold fingers wrap around her wrist like a vise. Her hand was placed beneath the victim's nose.   
  
"Sister." The victim gazed serenely upon her with hazel eyes. "Slayer." The vampire placed her hand on the girl's chest, where she could feel the heart beating steadily. He then resumed his feeding on the unresisting woman. The heartbeat sped up as the feed continued. She felt a light sheen of sweat forming on the victim's chest and then heard a quiet gasp. "Enough!" The vampire stopped feeding, licking the last drops of blood from her neck. He pulled away, and the new slayer noticed the woman's short skirt dropping beneath the long leather duster. His human face returned and he smirked at the new woman as the blonde turned to give him a kiss. "Beer. Could you get me a nice beer, Will? Would you care for one?"   
  
The chocolate-eyed newcomer shrugged, finally removing her hand from the woman's chest. "Sure, why not?" Will nodded and walked away without a word. "Faith."   
  
"Buffy."   
  
"The slayer?"   
  
"A slayer." Buffy gave her a curious look. "Clearly not the only one."   
  
"But you let him bite you." Buffy nodded. "And you haven't killed him."   
  
"I doubt I could. He's stronger."   
  
"Than us?"   
  
"If he had wanted to kill you, you'd be dead already. So drop it. You want to meet the gang?"   
  
"Five by five, B. Lead on."   
  
"Guys. This is Faith." Faith was fixed with four appraising stares from the table. "The slayer."   
  
"Xander."   
  
"Cordelia."   
  
"Willow, here." The red-head gave her a warm smile and waved.   
  
"And this is Giles."   
  
Giles rose from his seat and offered Faith his chair. "I was just going to go grab a drink. Can I get you ladies anything?"   
  
Buffy gave Giles a big grin and a hug. "Drinks coming, Giles. Already had a volunteer. But you can share mine, if you like."   
  
"Buffy, you're bleeding." Giles ripped a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at her neck. "What happened.?"   
  
"Love bite. Nicked his wallet though. Here, go buy yourself a drink." Faith snickered.   
  
Buffy palmed a fifty into his hand. "Buffy, that's an unnecessary risk."   
  
"He didn't even notice it was missing." Buffy shrugged. "I've had plenty of practice. Consider it payment for services rendered." Giles rolled his eyes heavenward and drifted off towards the bar. "Ever the watcher."   
  
"Care to spread any of that green this way, Buff?" Xander held out a hand, which Cordy slapped. Buffy shrugged, opening her purse and dropping a few twenties on the table.   
  
Cordy snorted. "The blonde groper was a vamp?"   
  
"Yup."   
  
"Thus the tramp act."   
  
"Yup."   
  
"Well, you had me fooled for a second. I never pegged you for a tease."   
  
"If it works, don't knock it. Besides, he got dust all over my nice dress."   
  
"I hadn't noticed."   
  
Spike arrived at the table, carrying three beers. "Beer! Thanks, Will." Faith gave the blonde vampire a big grin.   
  
"Tall frosty goodness."   
  
"Y're welcome, Pet." Spike gave Faith a kiss on the cheek. "Hiya, Red."   
  
"Eep!" Willow jumped from her seat. "Spike!"   
  
"Don't worry, already ate. Just buying beers for the underage slayers, here." Spike slid into a seat next to Buffy. "They had a keg of the good stuff tonight. Liking the dress, Red. Yummy." He licked his lips, eliciting another squeal from the witch. "Let me polish off this beer, and I'll take you for a spin." Willow's jaw dropped to the floor.   
  
Faith checked him over while sipping her beer. "If she doesn't want to go, I'll take you for a ride. That is, if Buffy doesn't mind."   
  
"Be my guest." Buffy winked at her. "I'll dance with Willow and Giles. Have you got somewhere to stay?"   
  
"I'm staying at a dive down by the airport."   
  
Cordelia interjected. "Why don't you stay at our guest house? I guarantee it's more comfy. My parents are out of town, anyway."   
  
"Way to go with the generosity, Cordy."   
  
"You've saved my neck enough times, no reason to think she won't do the same."   
  
Spike leered at her. "About that lovely neck, dear."   
  
Xander leaped from the seat, putting an arm around his girlfriend. "That lovely neck happens to be all mine."   
  
"Will, if you can't behave, go home."   
  
"Hey. B. Didya get that?"   
  
"Spidey senses all on it. Where?" Buffy glanced about, seeing a large dark male vampire dancing with a blonde woman. "Great. Harmony. Talk about vamp bait. He can have her."   
  
Cordelia squealed in protest. "Hey, that's my friend you're talking about there!"   
  
"Harmony wouldn't know a vampire if it bit her."   
  
Xander protested. "Buffy!"   
  
"And I believe that girlfriend of yours threw herself at another vampire once. My vampire."   
  
"I didn't know. Buff, what's with the 'tude, anyway?"   
  
Buffy took another swig of beer and sighed. "It's my night off, I'm sick of slayage. Will, would you please go rescue Harmony? If he's hitting on her, he can't be much of a fight." Spike hopped down from his perch and snaked his way out into the crowd. Soon he was dancing with Harmony, and the vampire in question had moved on to another target.   
  
Giles returned with a scotch. Clearing his throat, he said, "I see our friend Spike has returned to Sunnydale." He made a face. "Beer, Buffy?"   
  
"And a good one, too. Have a sip." Buffy passed the beer to her Watcher who took a sip, gave a nod, and passed it back.   
  
Faith looked at Giles, agog. "Man, Sarah would be all over me if she caught me with a beer. You are too cool."   
  
"And how is Sarah?"   
  
"Dead."   
  
Shocked, Giles shook his head. "Oh. Sorry to hear that."   
  
"Not as sorry as me. Maybe I'll go stake that vamp now." Faith hopped down from the chair while sucking down the last of her beer. "I feel the need to pummel something."   
  
"Need backup?"   
  
Faith shook her head. "Nah, I can handle it. It's gonna be ugly." She flashed a grin. "I'll take you up on that offer on the room, though, Cordy."   
  
"Faith."   
  
"Yeah, B."   
  
"Spike already nicked the wallet, so don't bother trying."   
  
"Five by five." She tossed her head and flounced off to find the vampire.   
  
Giles downed his scotch. "Strange girl."   
  
"A bit different from Kendra."   
  
"That she is."   
  
"I better shake Will loose from Harmony. I want another beer."   
  
"Buffy, you don't need another beer!"   
  
Xander drummed the table. "And the real Giles appears stage left."   
  
"I want another beer, Giles. I'm having fun. So chill. You can be the designated driver."   
  
"I really don't want to explain to your mother why her seventeen year old daughter is coming home with beer breath while in my charge."   
  
"Fine, I'll stay at the mansion with Will."   
  
Giles crossed his arms in front of his chest. "No. It's too dangerous."   
  
Buffy laughed at him. "Why, cause he might bite me? Been there, done that." Xander blanched, coughing up some coke into his napkin.   
  
Giles was on his last straw. He slammed a fist on the table. "Christ, Buffy! Give it a rest. No more beer."   
  
"Willow, let's go dance." Buffy grabbed a confused Willow's hand and dragged her out to the dance floor. "We can put on a show. Watch my purse, would you, Giles?" Buffy left the table, wiggling her hips suggestively as she headed for the dance floor.   
  
Giles reached to his face to whip off his glasses and discovered that his glasses had been replaced with contacts for the night. "Bloody hell!" He pinched the bridge of his nose.   
  
Cordelia fixed Giles with a pitying smile. "All not happy in watcher land?"   
  
"It is safe to say, that if I have your pity, all is not happy in watcher land. I need another drink." Giles opened Buffy's handbag.   
  
"Snooping, Giles?"   
  
"I'm a watcher, snooping is in the job description." He found a wad of cash, a vial of holy water, a cross, condoms, a lighter, and several cigarettes that looked to be pot. "Really, Buffy."   
  
Xander couldn't resist. "So what's in there?"   
  
Giles shrugged. "Stuff."   
  
Cordy took the purse from Giles and rifled through it. "So, not a tease." She snapped the tiny purse closed and slid it back to Giles.   
  
"What's in there, Cordy?"   
  
"Stuff. Is that what I think it is?"   
  
"Probably. Don't know without a closer sniff."   
  
"It's not pot." Spike had returned to the table. "It's called tash. It's similar though, but more of a narcotic. It's from a demon dimension. Think demon Tylenol plus Valium."   
  
"And you supply her with it?"   
  
"Nah. Needs sunlight. She grows it herself. She's got a good batch of it going over at the mansion. She's got a whole garden over there. Flowers, herbs. Could make a right killing if she supplied the Magic Box. It's lovely. Anyway, you should try one. She rolls them herself. Here, take one of mine." Spike passed one to him from the folds of his duster. "Pretty good for what ails ye." Cordy pulled Xander away from the table mouthing, "Dance."   
  
Giles pocketed the small cigarette in his jeans. "What brings you back to Sunnydale?"   
  
Spike set a pair of beers on the table. "Slayer said she wanted to come back. I'm just along for the ride."   
  
Giles studied the vampire. "Out of the goodness of your heart, I see."   
  
Spike remained inscrutable as he sat at the table and nursed a beer. "Well, there's easy hunting and Slayer's blood to be had. Not too bad a deal." He licked his lips.   
  
"She is aware that you still hunt."   
  
Spike smirked, "I believe her words were 'stay away from my friends and mom. And I don't want to hear about it.' Didn't say anything about not eating her watcher."   
  
"I hope I would qualify as a friend."   
  
"Not at the rate you're going, mate. I may have to eat you."   
  
Giles barked an uneasy laugh. "I find it hard to believe that you and she are a pair. Last I recall your girlfriend was busy torturing me. And Angelus, as well."   
  
"Been some water under the bridge since then, Watcher."   
  
"You think she loves you. Don't flatter yourself."   
  
Spike shrugged. "I'm her sire, whether she loves me or not, doesn't really matter."   
  
"Why? And why you?"   
  
"I found her first. I noticed you looking for her over the summer. Quite funny, that. You were close a few times. In fact, the same room once or twice."   
  
Giles reached for the second beer, snarling at Spike. "And you were so helpful in finding her."   
  
"She didn't want to be found. I respected her wishes." Spike carefully pried Giles' hand from the second beer. "It's Buffy's. Not yours."   
  
"I'm sure you are quite willing to accede to her wishes."   
  
"Whatever Buffy wants, Buffy gets. I sure didn't want to come back to Sunnyhell. I offered her Paris, London, anywhere but here. But no, she wanted to come back to Sunnydale. And you know why?"   
  
Giles' curiosity was piqued. "Her mom?"   
  
"No."   
  
"Angel, then."   
  
"Angel's good as dead. I suspect maybe she hopes he will return, but it's not the reason she gave. She never speaks of him."   
  
"Then what brought her back?"   
  
"You. Duty." Spike shook his head. "I don't understand it. Her entire life has been duty. I offered her freedom. All the money she could ever need, no more fighting, anything she could want. And she wants to serve you. And tend her little garden at the mansion. And to be with her friends. Occasional visits to Lorne. Her artwork – drawings and paintings. Thursday nights at Holy Cross. She builds fires at the mansion and curls up in one of Jasmine's blankets with the old watcher's diaries or some thick demon tome. She likes for me to read to her for hours. And she seems content. She could live forever, and she chooses to put her life on the line every night because of you. Fine then. Make Annie happy."   
  
"Annie?"   
  
"Sorry, Buffy." Spike shook his head and took another sip of beer. "Did she show you Jasmine's picture?"   
  
"Jasmine? No."   
  
"Yeah, here." Spike reached for Buffy's purse, fingering a small pocket inside and pulling out a miniature picture album. Instead of photographs, it held tiny pen and ink drawings. He flipped through it until he came to a drawing of a stunningly beautiful woman with curly tresses and intelligent eyes framed with long lashes. She was laughing, showing straight perfect white teeth and a tiny dimple on her left cheek. "That's Jasmine." Spike seemed lost in thought. "Annie takes these drawings everywhere. Gorgeous woman, Jasmine, all curves in all the right places. Had a voice that could melt any heart. Should've been a minstrel. And smart as a whip. A witch, probably close to Red in strength."   
  
"Really?" Giles leaned in for a closer look at the woman, noting that the picture included tiny details like hoop earrings in each ear, and one of Jasmine's hands, its long slender fingers filled with rings encrusted with gems. "Six fingers, that's unusual."   
  
"I suppose. I've met a few before. Had use of all of them, could play the lute quite well."   
  
"Buffy drew this?"   
  
"Of course." Spike flipped through the book, pointing at different portraits. "There's Red. And you." Giles looked at his own picture; it was in profile, and he was studying a book in his lap. "There's a better one of you somewhere in here. Oz." Oz was looking straight out at the portrait artist, a wry smile on his face. Spike continued flipping through the pages. "Angel, Rose, Andrew, Merrick, Lorne..."   
  
"Let me see Lorne." Giles peered at the demon, which appeared frightening at first glance, but on closer inspection yielded kind eyes and a warm smile.   
  
"That's Dawn." Spike pointed at a serious girl with long straight dark hair and large doe eyes. She wore a necklace with an ornate key pendant. "Buffy has visions of her. No idea who she is. But that's who she sees. Maybe another slayer?"   
  
"Doesn't look much like Faith. There's Xander. Who's that?" Giles pointed to a picture of a bearded man with long hair pulled into a ponytail behind his broad bare shoulders.   
  
"Hans. Had red hair – can't tell in this picture but there's a gorgeous oil painting of him at the mansion. Just had it framed."   
  
"A friend from the summer, then?"   
  
"You could say that." Spike looked taken aback. "She's told you nothing, has she, mate? I better shut my gob, then." He slammed the little book shut and slid it back inside her purse. "I was sure you already knew all this. I guess you're not the sorcerer I took you for."   
  
"I'm her watcher, I can't read her mind. I figure she'll tell me when she wants to talk about it."   
  
"But you read her blood. Jasmine's all over it. 'Bout only thing in it that's not me is Jasmine." Spike looked thoughtful. "The ring, did she have on her ring? That little one on her pinky?" Giles thought, and nodded. "That explains it then. It's a glamour of sorts. Hides things. But very subtle. For instance, a vampire that doesn't know her by sight would not sense that she's the slayer. But you, Dru or Peaches, we'd know. Do you understand?" Giles shook his head. "Can you see the tattoo? The one on her shoulder?" Giles studied the slayer, who was dancing wildly with Willow, oblivious to the conversation between the vampire and her watcher. "Look again. It's there."   
  
Giles looked, and behind a shimmer in the air, the Eyghon tattoo revealed itself, it flickered, and disappeared once again. Giles let out a breath. "Intriguing."   
  
"I know that it is there, so the glamour doesn't work on me. I see it all the time. Plus, I was there when the ring was made, so it is tuned to me, somewhat. But, you, you'd have to hold on to the tattoo's reality to break past the glamour. To some degree, it's a glamour that makes the person looking at her see what they want to see, or what she chooses to reveal."   
  
"Curious, I've never heard of such a thing." Giles leaned back in his chair, concentrating his full attention on Buffy, trying to push past the glamour. But other than a flicker of the tattoo, he could see nothing different. "So what does she hide from you?"   
  
"Nothing. I see her often enough without the ring." Spike gave Giles a satisfied smirk, then relented. "Oh, well. She appears about a stone heavier to me with the ring than without it. I prefer her a bit heavier. It hides a few scars that I'd rather not see, probably like the tattoo for you. She rarely wears makeup any more, since she can accomplish that with the glamour. I can choose to see her either way. If we are training or sparring, she can cover some flaws in her technique. So she takes the ring off. For me, the ring's powers are mostly superficial, so I had no idea it could cover dominant traits within her blood."   
  
"So I see what I want to see, not what is there?" Giles found this idea deeply troubling.   
  
"You're her watcher, she serves you. You probably see what you need to see. Your slayer. Nothing more, nothing less. I doubt she consciously hides anything from you. Except maybe the lack of makeup. The ring has its own powers to protect her, which she cannot control. But, perhaps, she chooses to keep some things for herself. If she always wears the ring around you, then you'd have no way of knowing what the differences are."   
  
"Does she ever remove the ring in front of anyone else?" Giles studied his slayer, thinking idly that Buffy was more of a stranger than he had guessed.   
  
"Lorne. She refuses to wear it when she is with him. But he's like me, already knows what's there. He doesn't judge her. He serves her without condition."   
  
"And I don't?"   
  
"You serve the Council. She serves you. It is your duty to bend her to the Council's will in all things. She knows that."   
  
Shocked, Giles retorted, "Is that what she thinks? After all this time?"   
  
Spike shrugged. "It is the truth." Giles shook his head, unbelieving. "She is more vampire than human, now, and every night she goes out and hunts and kills her own, for no reason other than her service to you. I have no doubt she would kill anyone you wished, without question, at your request. Vampire, demon, human, it makes little difference to her now."   
  
"She would kill a human?"   
  
"She has killed countless humans. Probably more than me, now. What is one more or less? Oh, she prefers not to, a bit squeamish still, messy business. But she's done it. She is a master assassin. A quarter of the plants in her garden are poisons of one sort or another. Painful, painless, fast, slow. Some for demons, some for humans. She has done it all."   
  
Giles reached for the glasses that he realized still weren't there. "Good Lord," he breathed.   
  
Buffy bounced back to the table, holding Willow's hand and spotting her beer. "Lovely, thanks Will." She gave Spike a chaste kiss on the cheek. "Mmm. The Belgian one, right?" At his nod, she snuggled up against Giles, to his surprise. "Spilling all my secrets, sweetie?" she asked, looking pointedly at Spike.   
  
"I had no idea they were still secrets. I'll stop now. Anyway, I've got to run. Clem is bringing over some buddies for poker."   
  
Buffy made a face. "So no sleep to be had at the mansion tonight?"   
  
"We can be quiet, if you wish. Or move the game to Willy's."   
  
"Nah, I'll crash on Giles' couch. Is that okay?" At Giles' reassuring squeeze and Spike's nod, she smiled happily. "Lovely sleep for Buffy."   
  
Spike cleared his seat, offering it to Buffy. "I was going to hang that portrait tonight, where did you want it?"   
  
"I think I made a mark in the den, east wall. Opposite the telly."   
  
Spike nodded and dropped some cash on the table. "Three hundred. That vamp from earlier."   
  
"Faith's kill, her money. I'll pass it on." Giving Buffy's hand a quick squeeze, Spike turned and strode purposefully out of the Bronze. 


	10. Nightmares

Giles flicked on the light as he ushered Buffy into his apartment. "Here we are. I'll fetch some blankets for the couch."   
  
Buffy watched as Giles rummaged in the linen closet. "I bled all over the other ones, huh? Maybe we should burn them."  
  
"I'm sure I can wash them." Giles was still bent over the closet.  
  
"No. Give them to me, I'll buy you some new ones. I'd prefer to burn the others. It's safer."  
  
"Why?" Giles gave her an exasperated look. "I'm tired, Buffy. Make your point."  
  
Buffy crossed her arms over her chest. "Slayer's blood. All kinds of magic can be done with it. I don't wish to be careless. If anyone is going to perform magic with my blood, it will be me."  
  
Giles knew she was right, but didn't like it. "Fine then. If you say so, I'll sacrifice my sheets." Buffy rewarded him with a satisfied smile. "So your friend Spike showed me some interesting sketches of yours."  
  
Buffy flopped on the couch. "Oh? Did you like them?"   
  
"Frankly, they're marvelous. I had no idea you were such a talented artist. The one of Oz is amazing."  
  
  
  
"I'm proud of that one. I have an oil painting based on it at the mansion. I plan to give it to Willow for her birthday. There's one of you that's better." Buffy reached in her purse for the album.   
  
"I saw it. The profile."   
  
"No. Here." Buffy handed Giles the album, open to his picture. He was poised at his desk, glasses in hand. His tie was loose at his throat, and he was laughing. The laugh started at the corners of his mouth and followed his face up to his eyes. "My favorite miniature of you. I've made several copies, if you want it."  
  
"That's astounding Buffy. When did you learn this?"   
  
"Over the summer." Buffy reached into the album, pulling another miniature from a pocket in the back of it. "I've meant to give this to you. What should have been." It was a picture of Giles embracing Jenny Calendar, each looking lovingly at the other. "I can't bring myself to make a painting of it, but if you want one, I will. I do have a small painting of Jenny, but it's just her face. What she looked like when she was teaching. If you want it, I'll bring it over."  
  
Giles cleared his throat. "That's quite all right. This is sufficient. May I?" He reached for the album.   
  
Buffy handed it over. "Be my guest. Can I take a shower? I've got vamp dust in my hair. It itches."  
  
"Certainly. I hadn't noticed." "If Spike was telling the truth, I wouldn't," Giles thought to himself. "Buffy, may I see that ring?"  
  
"This one?" Buffy placed her hand in his, pointing to an ornately worked gold ring on her left ring finger. "Or this one?" It was the ring Spike had described, resting on her right pinky, a plain band with a clear green stone, roughly a carat, on it.  
  
"Emerald?"  
  
"No. Diamond."   
  
"Really? I've never seen a green one before." Giles studied it closely, but could not detect any hint of magic within it. Not any magic he was familiar with. "Can you remove it?"  
  
Buffy searched his eyes, uncomfortable. "If I wish. I do not."   
  
"Who gave it to you?"  
  
"Jasmine."  
  
"So Spike wasn't lying to me. It is a charm of sorts. I thought he was taunting me. Showing me pictures and talking about the ring."  
  
Buffy graced him with a smile. "Oh, I'm sure Will was taunting you. He does that."  
  
"So the ring confers a glamour."  
  
"I suppose. That's not the word I know for it. It's called a par-kash-tahn. It confers, as you say, a tal-marat. I've no idea how to translate that to English."  
  
Giles looked at her sharply. "So I should hit the books. Research it."  
  
"If you wish. It's written like this." Buffy grabbed a piece of paper and swiftly wrote five symbols on it. "There you go. Par-kash-tahn." She wrote seven more symbols on page. "Tal-marat. The closest I can think of for this word is running. Marat means clean running water, like in a brook. You know, over stones, so you cannot perceive clearly what is underneath. Tal is related to the word talran which is used to refer to springs or a source of power."  
  
"I don't recognize the language."  
  
"You wouldn't. It's not well-known in this dimension. Will and I are probably the only ones fluent in it here."  
  
"Buffy, remove the ring, I insist."  
  
  
  
"Giles, I have vamp dust in my hair! Let me have a shower and clean up, and then if you wish, I'll remove the ring and you can see the pure unadulterated me. I warn you though, once you've seen me without the ring, the tal-marat doesn't have the same power. It breaks the connection to the talran in a way that cannot be restored. I'll always appear as I am, not what you might wish me to be. You will lose all of your power, and I will lose none of mine."   
  
Buffy returned twenty minutes later wearing sweats and a blue tank top and toweling her wet hair. Giles was brewing tea in the kitchen. "Thanks. The shower was great."   
  
"Tea?" Giles handed her a mug and placed sugar and milk before her, attempting to encourage her with a smile. He noted that the tattoo was still absent from her shoulder. "If I see you without the ring, will the mark of Eyghon appear?"  
  
"Yes, and all my other tattoos and battle scars as well. And unless I remember consciously to conceal them, you will see them every time they are exposed. Of course, I choose to conceal them most of the time when the ring is on. But you would be able to see past the illusion easily."  
  
"I've seen all your scars before you got the ring. I've patched most of them. And you don't have any tattoos."  
  
Buffy winked lasciviously. "Sorry to shatter your illusions, watcher mine. Of course I do. In all sorts of interesting places. But most of them are covered by my clothes."  
  
Giles left the kitchen and sat at the dining room table. It was covered in Merrick's diaries and several demonology tomes. He picked one up. "This is the fourth diary. It took him that long to figure out that you don't fit the mold and appreciate the privilege of being your watcher."  
  
"Four, huh? How many watcher's diaries for you?"  
  
Giles sipped his tea. "I never thought you would fit the mold. Didn't bother me in the least. Tell me about   
  
Jasmine. Can I see her in you without you removing the ring?"  
  
"I am Jasmine. Jasmine is part of me, I am part of her. I don't know how to show her to you in the way you mean. Her portrait is here." She flipped to the picture Spike had showed him of the smiling woman. "Rose was her daughter. There's Rose at about four, there's Rose as a grown woman, twenty or so."  
  
"Can I meet her?"  
  
Buffy shook her head sadly. "Jasmine's dead. Cancer. We tried everything, but there was no saving her. She was so very young, maybe forty at most. She was in so much pain." Buffy wiped her eyes with her napkin. "Perhaps this would show something of Jasmine to you. At least by her absence." She pulled at the ornate gold band on her ring finger. "I'm not sure what difference you'll see if I do this. But this ring has a spell on it as well. But there are three souls sealed in this ring. Not just Jasmine, but Hans and Andrew as well." She removed the ring and Giles studied her closely. Buffy's presence seemed smaller, a certain glow fell away from her features. Buffy looked older, her eyes taking on an odd ageless quality, as if a lost old woman peered through her young face. "Do you see a difference? I've only removed this ring when a new soul is added to it. The custom is to hide your face during that process. I've no clue how the ring's removal affects my outward appearance."  
  
"Yes, there is a difference. I see it."  
  
"All their memories of me are sealed within this ring. I see myself through their eyes, not my own. I hardly know myself without the ring. May I put it back on, please?" The ancient eyes in Buffy's face pleaded at him.  
  
  
  
"Yes, of course. I'm sorry. I had no idea removing it would cause you pain." The ring was quickly replaced and Buffy's visage returned to its normal appearance. Giles thought he could almost see the mischievous twinkle in Jasmine's eyes from the sketch shining through Buffy's face. He finally made a connection in the puzzle that Buffy had laid before him. "You spent your summer trapped in a demon dimension."  
  
"Some of it. Most of it was in L.A. as I told you before."  
  
"And Spike found you there."  
  
Buffy nodded. "Yes."  
  
"How long?"  
  
"Here, or there? Here it was just a few days, a week at most. I know I missed four days of work. Took a lot of fast talking to get my job back at the diner. Lorne gave me my bartending job back immediately, no questions asked."  
  
"And there?"  
  
"Time is different there. As measured there, over a century. Nearly four generations. I saw friends die and their great-grandchildren born. As time is measured here? Maybe eighty years or so. Will arrived and spent the last fifteen years there with me, until Jasmine died. When Rose was grown and married, we left."  
  
"So the ring, it's a binding ring."  
  
"A wedding ring, a par-lahk-shar. It makes no difference there if you marry a woman or a man, the process is the same. The ring is a pledge of sorts, that you will always remember who you are to the other. Their thoughts are forever with you. But in a very literal sense. If you have a fight, their hurt becomes your own. If you lose a spouse, and remarry, the ring is used for the next marriage as well. There is no divorce, you either marry for a year and a day or for life. The par-lahk-shar is for life bonds." Buffy was curled in the chair opposite Giles' at the tablet, her arms wrapped around her knees. She pulled at a chain on her neck, which Giles saw from beneath the glamour for the first time. "See here, this is Hans' ring, and Andrew's, and Jasmine's. All my memories of my life with them are within. If I wish to relive a day, or a week, I only have to put it on a finger, and I return to it. But I get the good with the bad."  
  
"And if someone else puts it on?"  
  
"It's a bit overwhelming. I put Jasmine's every once in a while. It's hard, because it contains her husband's memories of their first marriage. Very weird to see her through another person's eyes. I can't control the images as easily. They sort of flurry by. But Hans and Andrew, I was their only wife, so only my memories of them are there. They are as I remember them. You wish to see?"   
  
"That seems very personal, your memories of another person."  
  
"It was a long time ago. It's easier if you use the tash. It makes it like watching a movie. That's how I access Jasmine's ring. Gives me a bit of distance. But Hans or Andrew, you could probably handle it. Just remember, it's my memories, not theirs, so I'd be making love to them, not the other way around. It's a strange perspective. Of course, I could let you wear mine, but I think you'd find that even stranger, someone else's memories of me, and three people all at once. And I don't think I can bear to take it off again."  
  
Giles studied the three rings, considering. "Has Spike tried it?"  
  
"No, won't work, requires a soul. Will has no interest in a soul. But it would work for you."  
  
"How long does it take? Will I be in thrall all night?"  
  
  
  
"Oh, no. Only minutes. Let me think." Buffy shook her head, "I don't know, you choose. This one belonged to Hans, that one's Andrew's. Andrew was a scholar, you might prefer that one."  
  
"Oh, really? And what was Hans?"  
  
"Smith. I was weapons master at the keep; he made the weapons." Buffy giggled, "But he was a lot of fun. We had a great life together. Not much fighting. Andrew, however, he was a lot like you, always getting exasperated with me. We would get in these stupid little tiffs. You'd think I'd learned enough from him to avoid arguing with you. The making up part was always grand. Perhaps we need to try some making up. The fights are stupid if you never make up. I could always feel Andrew's hurts, I can't feel yours." Buffy's face took on a thoughtful look. "Perhaps I should make you a par-lahk-shar, it's a simple enough process. I could make two. I don't have to bind you to this one, it's just the custom, not necessity. If you didn't like it, we could take them off."  
  
"Very well, I'll try Andrew's."   
  
Buffy removed the chain from around her neck, removing Andrew's simple white band and handing it to Giles. She reached for her purse, which was lying on the dining table, and pulled out a joint and the lighter. She lit the joint, taking a small puff. A moment later, she visibly relaxed. She then passed it to Giles. "Try this, it will make it easier. Don't try to control the images, just let them float by."  
  
  
  
Giles drank in smoke from the burning cigarette, feeling as though a door had opened within his mind. The aches and pains that usually accompanied his daily life swiftly disappeared and he felt twenty years younger. Returning the joint, he placed the ring on his ring finger, and felt his heart leap with joy as he gazed into the face of the slender, dark-haired man who sat upon his knees in front of him. Images and feelings flooded by as, through Buffy's eyes, he felt her admiration for the young man's appearance and her lusty emotions as he lay naked and ready for her in their bed. Time passed, and there were images of them, heads together, in a large library, studying books in a language he had never seen. He felt his, or Buffy's, critical eye on him as they parried in a large room floored with straw mats that had swords and staffs upon the wall. He felt Buffy's heart fill with dread as the same man passed her a scroll with an ornate seal. He watched, transfixed, as the man let Buffy into a room where an old woman lay sleeping beside a tiny child, and her hands silently placed a rope about each of their necks, the woman and the sleeping child, and strangled them in turn. Another image floated by, as he stared at the man's smiling face as Buffy gasped for air and yelled, heart filled with relief as a tiny male child emerged from her body squalling. The man stood patiently behind her as she hefted a large axe over her head, and brought it down upon the necks of an unending line of men and women. He felt her pride and joy as a man in a red turban poured water on the feet, hands, and face of not one, but two tiny naked girls. He felt warmth and comfort as she lay sobbing in the arms of the same man in the bed they had made love in so many times. Images of the man, and Buffy's longing for him at many ages – young, middle aged with a receding hairline, and old, white hair falling to his shoulders, the same love and desire never wavered for this man. Laughing at the same man as a small girl, maybe four years old in a blue dress stood on his feet, dancing, as an identical girl jumped up and down, trying to distract them. Another image, he was flying through a crowd of exotically clad men and women as they danced to a quick tune. The final image was of holding the same beloved man in her arms, feeling nothing but gratitude as Buffy's hands silently stroked the long white hair as he drew his last shuddering breath. The thrall then broke. He looked up to see Buffy's face, serene except for the tears streaming from her eyes.  
  
"You loved him."  
  
"God, yes."  
  
"And every day, he wore that ring knowing how much you loved and admired him?"  
  
"Until the moment he died. He never once removed it."  
  
"What a precious gift. He was a lucky man."  
  
Buffy shook her head sadly. "The privilege was all mine. I was unworthy of such a good, kind man."  
  
"I'm sure he felt unworthy of you."  
  
"Silly man, he did. I never convinced him otherwise. It's here." She pointed at the ring on her finger. "But we had a good life together in a difficult time. Three children that survived to adulthood. And gave us grandchildren. He was so proud of them." She smiled then, through her tears, holding her hand out to have the ring returned. "Fifty-three years. And he loved me every moment of them."  
  
Giles pushed back from the table, not knowing what to make of the flurry of images still racing through his mind, now fading. He felt overwhelmed with envy for this man who had commanded the undivided heart of his slayer for so many years. "And you can give yourself to a killer like Spike after knowing the love of this man?"  
  
"Spike kills to eat, to survive. I have killed for less reason than that."  
  
"He feels no remorse," Giles reminded her gently.  
  
"Do I? Does it matter? Dead is dead."  
  
"He cannot possibly love you."  
  
"I'm an old woman, Giles. I've known love, I can live without it now. He cares for me, in his way. I don't delude myself, but we have an understanding." Buffy reached out and squeezed Giles' hand, "Perhaps acceptance has more value than love. He knows what I am and accepts."  
  
"Surely you are worthy of more than that. I hope I give you more than that."  
  
"Giles, it doesn't matter. You will forget what I have shown you. It's not possible to hold on to another's memories. By tomorrow, they will have passed away. You do not know me, and you do not need to. I am nothing but a tool in your hands, to wield as it pleases you."  
  
Giles shook his head to attempt to clear the haze that filled his mind. He suspected that it was an aftereffect of the tash. "No, you are more than that."  
  
"To protect, to serve, to obey. A warrior's oath. That is a slayer's duty. I will perform it until one of us is dead, then I shall end my service to the Council. I will not serve another after you. There are other slayers."  
  
"What do you want from me, Buffy?"  
  
"I require nothing from you, Giles. Except perhaps some sleep." A thoughtful looked passed over her face. "I always told my students to treat their weapons with respect and care. I told my captains to treat their guardsmen with courtesy and kindness. The power lies with the handler, not the tool. Perhaps that advice applies here. Use your power with care." With that, Buffy left the table and headed for the sofa, leaving a dumbfounded Giles contemplating his half-empty cup of cold tea.  
  
-------  
  
"He loves me, he loves me not." Buffy pulled white petals off the daisy, dropping them into the grass as she counted off the chant. "Do you love me, Giles?"  
  
  
  
"Of course, my dear. Do you ever doubt it?" Giles propped himself up on an elbow reaching for the fruit that lay on a plate between them. "You are easy to love. So lovely." He traced the outline of her face with a strawberry he had plucked from the plate, then fed it to her.  
  
"I wish..." Buffy didn't finish the sentence, instead choosing to pluck another daisy from the grass.  
  
"You wish what, love?"  
  
"I wish you would read to me. I love your voice."  
  
"I hope you love more than my voice."  
  
"There is nothing in you that I do not love, Giles. You hold my heart in your hands." Buffy brushed a kiss across his lips and ruffled his hair. "Now, read to me, lover." She handed him the book and Giles began reading of Harry Potter's arrival Charing Cross station and his meeting the Weasley family. As the Hogwart's Express rolled through the English countryside, Buffy interrupted him. "Is England so very beautiful?"  
  
"It's lovely. We must go, someday. Would you like to?"  
  
"Oh, yes. I want to see the moors, walk all over them with you. Visit some old castles. See their gardens."  
  
"Then we shall. It's time we paid the Council a visit, I'm sure they'd pay our passage."  
  
"Sounds fun, carry on." Buffy waved her hand to indicate that Giles should continue reading. As Giles recounted the arrival of Hermione to the coach where Ron and Harry were snacking, Buffy drifted off into a contented slumber, resting her head on Giles' shoulder.   
  
"Wake up, Slayer." Buffy awoke, seeing Merrick's bearded face. "We must be going." He offered her his hand, and Buffy rose from the bed where she was sleeping.  
  
"Where?" Buffy glanced about, not recognizing her surroundings. "Where am I?"  
  
Merrick placed an arm around Buffy's shoulder. "That's not important. The Council wishes to make an example of you."   
  
"Why? I'm no one."  
  
"Correct. You betrayed me, and now, now you are nothing." Buffy felt the knife enter her chest, piercing her heart and stared at him in shock as her blood flowed from her.  
  
"Merrick!" Buffy screamed, waking herself up. "Crap. Not again." Buffy ran from the sofa to the bathroom, arriving at the toilet just in the nick of time. "I hate this." She reached for the toothbrush in the medicine cabinet and began brushing the taste from her mouth.   
  
She heard Giles call from outside the bathroom door. "Buffy? Are you all right?"  
  
"Peachy." Buffy exited the bathroom. "I guess I'll be going now." She slipped on her sneaker clogs and grabbed her jacket from the rack by the door.  
  
"Buffy, it's four in the morning!"  
  
"Good, Will will still be awake. Bye, Giles."  
  
Giles grabbed her by the arm as she reached for the door. "You're not leaving. What happened? Another dream?"  
  
Buffy pried Giles' fingers from her arm. "I'll see you later."  
  
"The hell you will!" Giles placed his arm on the door, slamming it shut. "What is wrong with you?"  
  
"Please don't do this." Buffy stared him down. "Just let me go."  
  
"Did you dream about him? Or did you dream about me? Why run to him if I'm the problem?" Giles leaned against the door, trying to dissuade her.  
  
"I'm the problem, and you are not the solution, Giles."  
  
  
  
"And I'm certain Spike is an excellent solution to all your difficulties."  
  
"He'll do in a pinch."  
  
"Why won't you let me help you? What do you need, Buffy? Just tell me." Giles was bewildered by Buffy's sudden need to escape him. "Quit running away from your problems."  
  
"I'm leaving your apartment, Giles. I am not, repeat not, running away from my problems."  
  
"That's right, you're running straight to your problem. One." He held up a finger. "That monster."  
  
Buffy zipped her jacket and pulled the hood up. "Will is not my problem, Giles. He's yours. I don't have a problem with him."   
  
"What can he possibly give you that I can't?"  
  
"Fuck you."  
  
"Well, that about sums it up, doesn't it? Why did you come back, anyway?"  
  
"This is getting us nowhere, drop it."  
  
"What are you going to do when you get there? Talk to him? Ask for his advice? Tell him you dream of me?"  
  
"That's none of your business."  
  
Giles rolled his eyes. "So you're going over there to screw him."  
  
"To put it crudely, yes. Among other things."  
  
"And this will solve your problem."  
  
"Why not? I'm not getting any more sleep tonight. And I'm hungry. There's food there. Food and entertainment is of the good."  
  
Giles pointed at the kitchen. "There's food here. Help yourself. What would you like? Eggs? Bacon? Leftover scones? Tomatoes? I can make you a proper English breakfast, if you like."   
  
Buffy turned green and made a face. "No, thanks. I'll pass."  
  
"So you're lying. You're not hungry." Giles folded his hands across his bare chest. "You just want to get laid."  
  
"I'm not lying. I'm hungry. And I can 'get laid', as you put it, other places. I'm sure Xander would be more than willing if I crawled into his bed."  
  
"I'll give you a ride. Let me fetch my keys. But I think Cordy would have a problem with that, come Monday."  
  
"Tough shit. I. Don't. Want. Xander."  
  
"Language, Buffy," Giles chided. "I see that Spike has done wonders for your English."  
  
"Will and I rarely speak in English. You can thank HBO for my language."  
  
"That's right, you're too busy doing other things with your mouth, I'm sure."  
  
"Now that's just plain gross, Giles." Buffy slid down the wall, resigned to staying. "We rarely speak English because he can speak Taur-kan. And I've spoken it longer now than English. It's a much more precise language. I really don't want to fight with you."  
  
"And I have no desire to argue with you. I'm sorry I said that. I want to help." He held out his hand to her.   
  
"Though I must admit, I'm still reeling from yesterday's revelations."  
  
"Don't worry, they'll fade. You'll forget everything in a day or so. Nice side effect of the tash. It can wipe out two full days of memories. But you didn't have that much."  
  
"I don't want to forget, Buffy." Giles studied her face closely, "Will you forget?"  
  
  
  
"No. Tash doesn't have the same effect on me. I wish it did. I forget nothing. In fact, I remember too well."  
  
"Last night, I remember you saying that you and Andrew would fight. That fighting wasn't worth it if nothing was resolved. How did you resolve things?"  
  
Buffy groaned. "It's not the same. We had the par-lahk-shar, fights stopped pretty quickly, before they got personal. He wouldn't hurt me so much. Too painful to fight. Besides, he was my husband, he loved me."  
  
"And I don't?" Giles pulled Buffy off the floor, cupping her face in his hands. "What makes you think I don't love you every bit as much as he did? What makes you think I don't hurt when I see you hurting?"  
  
"It's not the same. You barely know me. We're practically strangers."  
  
"How can you say that?"  
  
"It's the truth."  
  
"Come here." Giles pulled Buffy into his embrace. "I want to know. I want to know everything. I want to understand what I saw last night in the ring. Tell me. Show me. Help me to understand you."  
  
"You will hate me. Just let me be what you want me to be."  
  
"Is not possible for me to hate you. Nothing you could do would make me hate you. Will you take off the ring? Does it hurt you to take it off?"  
  
"The par-kash-tahn? No. It doesn't hurt to take it off. But I'd rather not. Not in front of you."  
  
"You take it off in front of Lorne. Why not me?"  
  
"Lorne asked me to take it off – made his head hurt seeing me double. He could see through the illusion. He has no preconceived notions of what I should be. Plus, the moment I opened my mouth, he could tell I had changed."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"The ring, it shows you what you expect to see. What you want to see of me. If you were to drop all expectations of what I am, as if you'd never seen me before, then you would see me as I am. It has no power."  
  
Giles sat on the couch, examining his slayer. "Very well. Let me try that. Will you remove any concealment you have in place on your end?"  
  
"Yes." Buffy thought for a second, and Giles saw the mark of Eyghon appear on her shoulder, and several scars appeared on her exposed midsection that had not been there before, as well as an ornate tattoo which encircled her arm, written in symbols of the language that she had shown Giles the previous night. "See anything different?"  
  
"Yes, the Eyghon tattoo, some scars on your belly, and a tattoo on your left arm."  
  
Buffy gave him a rueful smirk. "Slayer healing doesn't help with stretch marks. They ain't pretty, are they?"  
  
"Those must be the scars Spike prefers not to see."  
  
"Oh, he doesn't care about those. He doesn't like this one." She pulled the top of her tank down low to the edge of her breast, exposing a ragged scar of a cut that had sliced her breast from the breastbone to her armpit. "Or these." She turned her back to Giles, removing her shirt. There were crisscrossed whip marks from her neck to the top of her pants. "Seen enough, Giles?" She moved to put her shirt back on before turning back Giles.  
  
Giles schooled his face to hide his dismay. "Are there more?"  
  
"Plenty. Just under my clothes."  
  
  
  
"Wait a moment." Giles closed his eyes taking a few moments to clear his head of any expectations he might have of Buffy's appearance. He opened them, and gazed upon his slayer as if seeing her for the first time. Buffy stood before him, as Spike said, much thinner than he would have ever expected her to be. Every muscle on her body stood out in relief. All of the fat that usually lay under her skin had dissipated, leaving muscle striations and veins visible. Her skin was paper white, almost as white as a vampire's. Her tank top, which had hugged her lovely curves suggestively a moment before, was now loose and baggy over a skeletal frame. He studied her face and her blue-grey eyes flashed with a hint of yellow, as if a vampire lay just beneath the surface. He could see Spike's mark upon her throat, covering the one left by the Master. Buffy stood there, fingering the rings on the chain about her throat, chewing her bottom lip, looking nervous.   
  
"Can you see?"  
  
"Enough." Giles took a deep breath. "I had no idea." Buffy's image flickered before him, he could not hold on to the reality of the changes. She returned to the healthy tanned California girl he was accustomed to seeing when he looked at her. Only Spike's mark remained, mocking him. He couldn't forget it.  
  
"You couldn't possibly. Now you know why I don't want to remove the ring in front of you."  
  
"The ring has remarkable powers."  
  
Buffy shrugged. "I suppose. Couldn't very well come back looking like that."  
  
"Does anyone else know?"  
  
"Oz. You know him, he sees right through it. I can tell. Course, he doesn't say a thing. Just gives me these Oz looks."  
  
Giles chuckled under his breath. "He would, wouldn't he?" He pulled Buffy towards him, trying to see if she felt different. But the illusion held as he touched her creamy tanned skin and examined her carefully.   
  
"Amazing. Touching you doesn't break the illusion. I can't even sense the magic in the ring." He kissed her forehead. "I'd like to think you are healthier than that, Buffy. But, you are still beautiful, either way. All strength." Giles stroked her hair, pulling her into a tight embrace. "All love."  
  
"You sweet, kind man. But I don't need your pity." Buffy straightened up, putting on her armor, and stepping away. "As for my health, it's improving. I get a little stronger each day. But the stress of the charade and the nightmares, it wears on me. I need space to be just me. Will can give me that."  
  
"I can give you that. I don't want you to hide from me. Not here. Don't leave, please." Giles pulled her back to him, snuggling his beloved slayer against his bare chest. "Come, let's see if you can get some more rest in the bed. I'll give you a back rub. That is, if it doesn't hurt you."   
  
"No, it won't hurt. It would be nice." Buffy quietly followed him to his room. 


	11. Awakenings

"Mmm. Giles pretty." Buffy gazed at her half-awake watcher lying beside her in the bed, his arm flung protectively across her. "Is that a regular morning happy, or is it for me?" She reached out and rubbed his scratchy face.  
  
Giles smiled, a twinkle in his eye. "Depends."  
  
"Really? On what?"  
  
"On whether you help me with it, or I go take a cold shower."  
  
  
  
"Cold shower yucky, watcher yummy." Buffy kissed Giles eagerly, melting into his arms as they tightened around her. "Let's cancel that cold shower."  
  
"Good with me." Giles initially concentrated on Buffy as she took ruthless advantage of him, trying to see past the tal-marat, and finally failed, giving himself up to the pleasure of her warm, clean-smelling body that was quite intent on pleasuring him.   
  
"Giles like?" she asked after, trailing kisses along his belly as they rested, sated, her fingers entwined with his.   
  
"Very much. Buffy like?"   
  
Buffy propped herself on one elbow, studying her watcher's contented face. "Buffy want more Giles."  
  
"More you shall have." Giles rolled over on top of her, smothering her with kisses. "Where would you like me to begin? Here?" He kissed her gently on the lips, "Or here?" He kissed the mark that Spike had left behind on her neck, causing her to gasp and pull him closer. "Like that, do you?" He suckled at her neck, causing Buffy to moan and gasp with pleasure, gripping his hips.  
  
"God, yes!" She squirmed against him, for the first time noticing the time on the digital alarm clock. "Oh, God!" She bucked, trying to throw him off. "I'm gonna be so late!"  
  
"Late? For what? It's Sunday, Buffy." Giles pinned her to the bed, eager for more. "No school."  
  
"Church, Giles. I'm a greeter today." Buffy thrashed underneath him, torn between her choices. "Gotta be there by ten-thirty. They're relying on me."  
  
"I'm lying on you, Buffy," Giles quipped. "What happened to 'Want more Giles'?" He glanced up, nine o'clock. "Since when do you go to church?"  
  
"Since I've been back. I go Sundays and Thursday nights." Buffy wiggled free, placing a kiss on Giles' nose. "I still want more Giles, just later."  
  
"What if I give you more Giles, right now, and then drive you to the church?" He pulled her out of the bed and dragged her, unresisting, to the shower. "Maybe in the shower? Giles want more Buffy."  
  
Buffy giggled as Giles soaped her up. "I need to make you a par-lahk-shar, I'd sure like to know what's in your head right now."  
  
"Be my guest. But I think it's quite obvious what's in my head. You don't need a ring for that." Giles rubbed himself against her, his ardor apparent.  
  
"If you start reading Harry Potter right now, I'll stake you."   
  
"Never read it. Must try sometime. See what all the fuss is about." Giles entered her swiftly, and Buffy wrapped her legs around him as the hot water poured over them. "Beats a cold shower any day."  
  
"I'm liking this dream more and more. Don't pinch me." Buffy gripped Giles' shoulders. "I don't wanna wake up."  
  
"You're not dreaming, love." Giles pinched her nipple playfully. "How's that?"  
  
"Giles! You're killing me." Buffy squealed as she went over the edge.  
  
Giles' voice was husky as he joined her. "That would really upset the old ladies at the church, wouldn't it?"  
  
  
  
"Give them a right heart attack." Spike stepped into the bathroom. He was immaculately dressed in a dark grey suit with a white dress shirt and red tie. Giles noticed that his cuff had the monogram 'WTB' in block letters. "Nice going, Watcher. The little Scoobies downstairs are already falling all over themselves in shock. Really, Rupes, had no idea you had it in you. Twice. Faith is quite impressed. Wants a go herself."  
  
"Will!" Buffy stepped out of the shower, taking the towel he held out for her. Spike wrapped the towel around her, handing her a silver handled hairbrush from a brown leather bag that sat on Giles' sink. He tossed another folded towel, full strength, at Giles, smacking him in the chest as he exited the shower.  
  
"Ouch!" Giles caught it, wrapping it around his waist. "This is a bloody nightmare. How did you get in here?"  
  
"Read the fine print in those books of yours. You invited my childe in to your house. Works for the sire as well." With the familiarity of a thousand mornings, Spike reached into the bag and poured oil from a vial into his hand. Sitting on the toilet while rubbing his hands together, he began working the vanilla scented oil into Buffy's back. Buffy dropped the towel down to let him get the base of her spine and buttocks.   
  
Giles gaped openmouthed for a moment, and then reached for his deodorant from the medicine cabinet, muttering "If I'd wanted a threesome, I'd have invited Ethan over."  
  
Spike poured more oil into his hand. "I heard that, Watcher. I'm not sure whether to be insulted or relieved."   
  
Buffy turned around, allowing Spike to smear the oil onto her breasts and stomach. "Good, luv?" Giles reached for his razor and began his shaving routine, trying to ignore the other pair that had invaded his bathroom.  
  
"Always." Buffy handed the brush back to Spike, who placed it back and the bag and handed her a pair of underpants and bra. Buffy slipped on the pants, and turned her back to allow Spike to help her fasten her bra. "Thank you."  
  
"The red suit and your green dress are on the bed. Which do you want?"  
  
"The suit, but I'll eat first. Let the oil sink in." Spike nodded and went out, returning with an oversized cotton shirt, which hung to her knees. He helped her ease into it, pulling it over her head and slapping her rump gently. "Will!" Buffy giggled playfully, planting a quick kiss on his lips. She was rewarded with a glass of water and two pills, which Spike handed her from the bag on the sink.   
  
Giles looked over his shoulder, debating whether to question their actions, and then returned to his shaving. Spike reached in a pocket and pulled out an antique sterling watch and a claddaugh ring, helping Buffy put them on. He then handed her some pearl and diamond earrings. "Hungry, Pet?"  
  
"Starving."  
  
Giles turned from the sink, "Christ! What are you? Her bloody valet?"  
  
Spike reached into the leather bag, tossing a bottle of deodorant to Buffy. "Seems to me, you're the one who forgot his job description this morning. Council doesn't think too highly of watchers who endanger their slayer. And given the fact that I don't see any evidence that either of you remembered any precautions this morning, you are a stupid git."   
  
Buffy placed her hand on Spike's chest, pushing him back on the toilet seat, stopping him from going after Giles, who still had a razor in his hand. "Will, he doesn't know."  
  
"Annie, why didn't you just think for two seconds? Why do you think I stock your purse?"  
  
Buffy feigned nonchalance. "What's done is done, if we have to, we'll deal."  
  
  
  
"Last time we 'just dealt', I nearly wound up burying you. Seem to recall I buried your child in two feet of snow while Jasmine was doing her damndest to save your life. And I happened to like that child's father. I don't like him." Spike pointed at Giles. "You're in no shape for this. Why didn't you just come home?"  
  
Giles crossed his arms over his bare chest. "I'm right here. And I don't like you, either."  
  
Buffy hung her head. "I'm sorry, Will."  
  
Spike pulled her into his arms, burying his face between her breasts. "Sorry doesn't keep you alive."  
  
"What are you apologizing to him for? I have half a mind to throw him out the door." Giles put the razor down on the sink. "It's a lovely, sunny day out there," Giles grinned wickedly at the vampire.  
  
"He's right, Giles." Buffy opened the bathroom door, headed back to the bedroom, pulling the irate vampire behind her. "I'm hungry. We're going to be late."  
  
When Giles exited the bathroom five minutes later, he found Spike sitting in his overstuffed leather reading chair with Buffy curled in his lap, a blanket thrown over both of them so that he could not see her face. "What the hell are you doing?" he hissed at them.  
  
"Feeding her." Spike tenderly rubbed Buffy's back as she continued feeding, oblivious to Giles' presence. "She wanted to know if you still wanted to go to church with her. If so, dress nice, we're taking the priest to lunch afterwards."  
  
"Very well. I shall." Giles reached into his closet, grabbing the nicest suit he owned that wasn't a tux. He wasn't about to be outdressed by a bleach-blonde vampire. After quickly dressing, he headed downstairs, determined to put the unsettling scene in his bedroom behind him.  
  
"So, Giles, who's the little tramp with the hot red Mercedes?" Cordelia was perched on Xander's lap, drinking a fancy coffee from Starbuck's while scarfing down a doughnut. "That's a pretty nice car for a girl who does a librarian at nine in the morning."  
  
"Way to go with the ladies, G-man!" Xander gave him the thumbs up.  
  
"I have no idea what you are talking about." Giles stomped into the kitchen, putting on a kettle for tea. "And don't you dare touch that jelly donut."  
  
Faith snickered, bouncing on the end of the sofa opposite Xander and Cordelia. "Sounded pretty hot stuff to me. It she the jealous type? I think I'd like a ride on you myself."   
  
"I'm not a carousel, Faith." Giles opened the refrigerator door, seeing four clear bags of blood, labeled O-positive in a brown bag next to his orange juice container. "Oh, hell! Can this day get any worse?" He reached for the juice, finding it nearly empty. "Xander!"  
  
"Sorry."  
  
"Sounded like you were having a good time to me." Giles stared at Cordelia in horror.   
  
Faith chimed in, two fingers in the air. "Twice."   
  
"Exactly what time did you get here?"  
  
Willow finally put in her two cents worth. "Eight-thirty, like you asked. New slayer, training, ringing a bell?"  
  
"Wait, that was at about quarter to nine." Cordelia checked her watch. "And again at nine-twenty. Quickie in the shower." She nodded sagely, the other Scoobies echoing her nod. "And slayer the first, that would be Buffy, is a no-show."  
  
Willow reached for another donut, her pigtails swinging as she leaned across the coffee table. "Aren't you a little overdressed for training?"   
  
"I'm going to church."  
  
Cordelia slapped her hand. "That's mine. With the tramp? Isn't it a little late for that?"  
  
  
  
"I would you appreciate you not referring to the woman I was just making love to as a tramp, Cordelia."  
  
"Yes!" Xander slapped Oz's hand over the coffee table. "Pay up, folks!" Faith rolled her eyes and threw a twenty on the table. Cordelia and Willow did the same. "Can you break a twenty, Giles?"  
  
"Good Lord!" The tea kettle whistled insistently, and Giles poured the water into a mug, bringing it to the coffee table and snatching his coveted jelly donut before it was taken. Since all the seats were taken, he stood by the door, watching the students that had made themselves right at home in his living room argue over the final donuts.  
  
"And she appears!" Xander watched as a pair of slender legs came down the stairs. "And she is, drum roll please!" Oz tapped out a rolling rhythm on the coffee table. "Buffy?" Buffy stepped down to the bottom, dancing a quick step and posing for the group.  
  
Faith grinned widely. "Way to go, Watcher-man. The slayer. My turn!"   
  
"You can have a turn with me, if you like." Spike followed two steps behind Buffy, buttoning his dress coat. "But I'm a bit peckish. Need some food." Spike strode past Buffy at the bottom of the stairs, headed for the kitchen. Giles heard the microwave start and finally beep.  
  
Buffy noticed the money on the table. "I can't believe you bet on this, Oz."  
  
"Sucker bet, since you didn't come home last night." Buffy snorted in disgust. Oz winked and pointed at his nose.  
  
Giles called from his spot by the door. "Where did you get that stuff, Spike?"  
  
Spike called back, drinking from the mug. "Ate a couple of Red Cross delivery boys last night. Delicious."  
  
Buffy retrieved the final donut from the box, squeezing next to Willow on the single person couch. "Really? That's pretty clever."  
  
"Got enough blood for a solid week."  
  
"Good, I hate the pig's blood. Nasty stuff."  
  
Spike nodded. "Gross, I agree. Don't know how Angel stood the crap. I'd sooner go out and hunt some rats in the sewers. Takes longer. Peaches was always a lazy bastard."  
  
"And if someone needed that blood to save their life?" Giles called the question out to Spike while giving his slayer a disgusted look.  
  
"Not my problem, mate." Spike dumped another bag into the mug. "First come, first serve."  
  
Willow leaned in to Buffy. "So who's the girl upstairs?"  
  
"What girl?" Buffy looked around, confused.  
  
Cordelia explained carefully. "The girl with the bright red Mercedes that had Giles all hot and bothered this morning."  
  
Spike called from the kitchen. "That's Annie's Mercedes. I drove it over this morning."   
  
"And where's Annie?"  
  
"I'm Annie. Buffy Anne Summers." Buffy licked the last of the powdered sugar off her fingers. "It's my car."  
  
"Your mom bought you a Mercedes? I'm so going to have a talk with my dad when he gets back from New York. I wanted a ..."  
  
"I bought the car myself, with my own money."  
  
Spike dropped his mug into the sink, returning to the living room. "Watcher, you don't happen to a copy of the Rorshhadan Codex?"  
  
"Yes, in the cage at the library. And, why, pray tell me, would you be interested in the Rorshhadan Codex?"  
  
"My copy is missing a few pages, I thought maybe I could take a look at yours. Do you have the Miklos Journals?"  
  
  
  
"No. They are a myth, don't exist."  
  
"Bollocks. I'm still waiting for mine to come in. I've got twelve of them. Ordered four more, from 1900 on, last month. I've got to wait for Nikola to finish copying it for me. They're sticklers about that, only copy it by hand, deliver everything in person. Costing me a small fortune. Was hoping the Council had finally managed to sneak some out of Greece."  
  
"Not that I've heard."  
  
Spike looked at Faith. "Anne give you your money, yesterday?"  
  
"Yup."  
  
"Well, here's a bit more, why not go shopping with Cordelia and get some decent clothes?" Spike handed Faith a card. "Has two thousand on it. Should work at any store at Sunnydale Mall."  
  
Giles raised his eyebrow. "Bribing the slayer, Spike?"  
  
"If you can't beat 'em, bribe 'em, I say. Actually, Jarnisa put a price on that vamp's head, so that's Faith's commission."  
  
"Works for me." Faith winked at him.  
  
"Girl, we are going to get you cleaned up." Cordelia hauled the raven-haired slayer off the couch.  
  
Buffy returned from washing her hands in the kitchen and stood quietly as Spike adjusted her clothes. He then reached on the table by the door and held out white cotton gloves, one by one, helping Buffy slip them on her hands. Finally, he picked up a piece of lace, deftly pinning it in place on top of her curls. "Ready, love?" At Buffy's nod, Spike donned a hat and headed out the front door, offering his arm to Buffy. "Coming, Watcher?" Giles took a longing look back at the group in his apartment and followed the pair out the door.  
  
"Spike, it's full sun out there!"  
  
Spike opened the passenger side door for Buffy. "Why, fancy that, Watcher." He threw the car keys at Giles, hopping into the back seat. "I hadn't noticed. You scratch Anne's car, I will eat you."  
  
-------  
  
If Giles had found the scene in his apartment that morning disconcerting, he found the experience of attending church with Spike and Buffy utterly appalling. Spike fell into the role of doting boyfriend effortlessly, anticipating Buffy's every move with flawless precision. Further, they were both well-known and equally well-liked by the congregation, particularly the elderly ladies, who fawned over Spike like so many doting grandmothers. As one elderly lady, whom Giles recognized as Buffy's friend from the Thursday night service, walked up the path from the parking lot, Spike skipped down the steps of the church with a smile, tipping his hat and offering his arm, then chatting to her amiably in fluent French as he ushered her into the sanctuary. Worse yet, Giles had to fend off the attentions of three attractive ladies his own age, who came up to him before the service, flirting and dropping none-too-subtle hints that they would like a date. Finally, in desperation, Giles excused himself and fled to the sanctuary, taking a seat next to the lady that Spike had escorted into the church.  
  
"Millie Appleton," the woman introduced herself, offering her hand to him with a friendly smile.  
  
Giles took her hand and shook it, "Rupert Giles."  
  
"I saw you up at the front with Anne, you must be her father. Such a lovely girl, and Will is so polite. A fine, handsome young man. You must be so proud of them, such a sweet couple. Nice to meet you."  
  
  
  
Giles stifled a groan by clearing his throat, answering in French, "I'm not Anne's father. But I am fond of her. She's an astonishing young woman."  
  
"She has made a place for herself here quickly. We all adore her." Millie continued, regaling him of tales 'darling Will' and 'Anne'. Giles leaned back against the pew, relieved to have escaped the attentions of the younger single ladies. 


	12. Priests and Demons

Father Joseph, whom Giles recognized as Buffy's confessor from several nights before, reached into his briefcase and placed a notebook filled with papers in front of them. "The diocese has inherited a collection of books from a parishioner who died a few weeks ago. Will here tells me he is a collector of books and manuscripts, so I am hoping to determine the value of these books and how best to dispose of them." He pushed the book towards Spike, who opened the front cover. "I took pictures of a sampling of pages from the collection to see if there is anything of value in it. There are a few illuminated manuscripts and writings of early church fathers that I think the diocese will want to keep, but otherwise, I suspect it will all be auctioned off."   
  
Giles craned his neck, trying to see over the table to the other side, but could not see inside the notebook.  
  
"Come, Rupert, swap with Anne and take a look at this. Rupert spent some time with the British Museum, he's an expert on antiquities." Giles didn't need to be asked twice, he switched places with Buffy and delved into the fat book, which held digital photographs of pages from the book collection.  
  
Father Joseph clapped his hands. "How lucky we are to have two such intelligent gentlemen to look over our books." He pulled out a post-it note pad and a pen, saying, "If you recognize any of these manuscripts, maybe you can identify them for me."  
  
"Well, that's a page out of the Pergamon Codex." Giles pointed to it, "I have that in my collection." Buffy wrote down the name on the post-it, and placed it on the page. "I have contacts that will be interested in it."   
  
Spike turned the page. The priest commented, "There is a whole collection of those, I asked a Chinese parishioner if he could read it, but he didn't recognize any of the characters."   
  
Spike studied the page closely. "It's encrypted, in a way. The characters are deliberately malformed to confuse the casual observer. What do you think, Rupert?"  
  
"Chinese is not my language, I'm afraid."  
  
"This," Spike said, pointing to a character on the page, "is a diary dating from the Boxer rebellion. Chao Ling, ring any bells?"  
  
Giles paled at the reference to bell ringing, and then wracked his brain for any memory of the name. "Xue Mei's watcher."  
  
"Correct. I'm surprised it didn't burn in all the fire. I know several people who would be interested in this, including me. You've got a curious collection on your hands, priest." Spike and Giles continued their perusal, Buffy writing notes, possible market values, and potential buyers on various slips of paper, which were entered into the notebook. "Take a look at this, Anne. What is it?" Spike turned the book towards Buffy. Giles noted that the characters were similar to the ones Buffy had shown him the night before.  
  
  
  
Buffy pulled the book towards her. "A list. Of condemned prisoners. Their names, the date of conviction, the method of execution, and execution date, and executioner. It was kept to prevent the assassin from being accused of murder. See, here's Jwan-kar, Ahn-met, Dran-tor. They were active in the time of changes. Nasty piece of work, but that's what it is." Studying the page closer, she pointed and blanched, "Here is the record of execution for Altam-kal. The minstrel of the Wanderer."  
  
"Really?" Spike rose from his seat and stood over her. "I'll be. Who did it?"  
  
"Ahn-met. Beheading."  
  
"I didn't know." Spike patted Buffy on the shoulder, quickly flipping the page. "Guess I never asked. What's this?" He pointed to another page, which contained similar characters, but was clearly from a different book.   
  
"I don't recognize the script." He squatted next to her, watching over her shoulder.  
  
"It's music. See, here." she pointed, "There's the bass part, and the tenor. The second tenor sings this one, and there's a soprano part. It looks to be a liturgical piece, but I don't recognize it."  
  
"The Songs of the Guardian Rose of the Spring." Spike pointed to some characters at the top. "Fancy title for a little ditty."   
  
"No, look, it's been put into the canon. It carries scriptural authority." Buffy began printing the title onto a Post-it note, taking her eyes from the page.  
  
"Figured it out, here's the words." Spike ran his finger down the page. "It's the story of the woman at the well, much like the one from the Gospels."  
  
The priest interjected. "Really, how fascinating! Can you translate it for us?"  
  
"Well, it's meant to be sung, really. All scriptures in this language are sung.." Buffy gazed upon the page. "The bass part is for the Father, the tenors for the Son and Spirit, and a soprano sings for the woman at the well. There's a chorus as well. Will, can you set a pitch? We can sing the tenor and soprano parts easily enough." Spike began tracing his finger through the music, quietly singing the tenor in a haunting tone. Buffy came alongside him, answering the call of the tenor as their voices entwined. The priest and Giles listened, entranced, as the two sang in perfect harmony. When they finished, the priest had tears in his eyes, as did Buffy.  
  
Giles couldn't resist. "So what does it say, really?"  
  
Buffy shrugged. "It's the story of the woman at the well. She meets Jesus, as he appears in that dimension, knows him, and is redeemed." She read out loud,  
  
"And it came to pass, in the days when the Wanderer roamed upon the earth, that a woman and her daughter were drawing water from a well. The Wanderer, the Bearer of All Burdens, came to them and asked, "Will you serve me?" The Woman of Sorrows, answered, "You know me not, yet I serve." She poured out her water for him. The Wanderer told her, "Truly, I know you. You have five husbands, and the one you have now is not yours. I shall give to you your false husband as your true servant. He will know my light, and walk in it." The Woman of Sorrows replied, "I do not ask for such a gift. I am unworthy." The Wanderer told her, "I know your true name. You serve me truly. Your feet have never wavered from the path I have set before you. What was lost will be restored to you. But in the time between, you will bear my burdens and know my suffering. Your only relief will be in the flesh and blood of the True Servant." The woman fell on her face, with her daughter, and wept and sang praises at the feet of the Wanderer. "I shall pour my blessing upon your and your kin, and they will serve me as one mind." And the Bearer of All Burdens spoke to her, naming her true name, and placing his mark upon her. From that time on, the one who was false became true, the father became the servant of the child, and walked from darkness into light."  
  
Giles mused thoughtfully, "Quite a odd spin on the original story."  
  
  
  
The priest concurred. "Yes, I'd be interested to hear more of this book. Song of the Rose, you say?"  
  
Spike interjected. "That's close enough. Rose is a approximation of the writer's name, such as Song of Solomon is attributed to Solomon. It is said that the Guardian Rose is the daughter of the Woman of Sorrows. So, she would have been at the well when the Wanderer passed. How many of these books do you have?"   
  
"I've no idea, several boxes." The priest flipped through the pages, coming to one which showed a painting which appeared to be paint upon gold leaf. "There are also several books of paintings like these – they look like patterns for Orthodox icons or some such."   
  
Spike and Buffy put their heads together, fingering the edges of the photograph of the painting. "Amazing," Spike breathed unnecessarily. "It's exquisite."  
  
"Do you know what it is?"  
  
Buffy was completely absorbed by the picture. "Yes. Of course. It's a mar-kuman. You are correct, it is a pattern for a larger work. There should be five in this set. I wonder who did this one? The mark is obscured in the photograph. I must see the book." She pushed the book towards Giles. "This picture is the birth of the Wanderer." Giles peered down to the page, seeing the depiction of a man in red robes delivering a calm child from its mother.The figures were flat, laid out on the gold panel. She turned the page, finding another stylistic painting. "The Wanderer teaching upon the hill."  
  
The priest whispered, "The Sermon on the Mount."  
  
"The very same." Spike passed the book to the priest. "But with a twist, as well."  
  
"And this?" The priest turned the page, revealing a depiction of a woman wielding an axe, bringing it down upon the neck of a man. "The Wanderer's death?"  
  
"No, the minstrel's, Altam-kal." Buffy stood up from the table, pacing, rubbing her arms. "I must excuse myself, please." She rushed from the table, headed for the bathrooms in the back of the restaurant.  
  
Giles made the connection. "That would be John the Baptist, then?"  
  
Spike looked after the departing slayer. "Yes, I suppose. I never made the connection before. He has his own books within the canon of scripture. In that dimension, at least."  
  
Giles studied the vampire. "You have them?"  
  
"No." Spike looked thoughtful, "But perhaps the priest here has more in his collection. Perhaps we should come to visit you and take a thorough accounting of these books. If nothing else, I'd like to make good copies of them. I'm willing to pay for the right to duplicate them."  
  
The priest answered enthusiastically, "I'd be honored to have you come and peruse the collection. Perhaps we can work out an agreement, obtain translations of some of the texts."  
  
"In the meantime, I suggest you keep them under lock and key. There are some occult texts in there that should not fall into the wrong hands." Giles suspected that Spike was just the wrong set of hands to obtain the books, but bit his tongue.  
  
A few minutes later, Buffy returned, looking composed and smelling faintly of cloves. The party wrapped up their discussion, paid the server, and left the restaurant. 


	13. Chaos comes for dinner

"Smells good, Annie." Oz reached the bowl of popcorn at the kitchen island, popping a handful into his mouth. "What is it?"  
  
"Soup. One of Jasmine's recipes. Or at least as close as I can get with the canned beans from the store." Buffy bent over the stove, sniffing. "Pretty close, actually." She tasted a bite. "Mmm. You know, even Will eats this."  
  
"Really?" Oz looked on, amused, as Buffy danced around the kitchen to a tape of Lorne's singing in the cassette player.   
  
Gitchie, gitchie, ya ya da da (yeah-ey)  
  
Gitchie, gitchie, ya ya here (here)  
  
Mocha Chocolata ya ya (ooh yeah)  
  
Creole Lady Marmalade  
  
Buffy pulled Oz off the stool to dance with her. "I play music, I don't dance that well." At her insistence, he wrapped his arms around her and they swayed to the music. "You need something, don't you?" Oz sniffed at her. "Why don't you go find Giles?"  
  
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir (ah, oh)  
  
Voulez vous coucher avec moi (Yeah yeah yeah yeah)  
  
Buffy ignored him, still dancing to the music, running a finger down his neck. "I need blood more than sex, right now."  
  
Oz nodded, pulling Buffy closer to him, allowing her to nuzzle into his neck. "Where's Will?" Buffy reached into a nearby drawer to get a knife.  
  
"In L.A. Went to pick up some books." Buffy turned around in Oz's arms, rubbing herself against him suggestively.  
  
"Annie, you've got to stop this. If Willow sees us, we'll have a lot of complicated explaining to do. If you need to feed, feed before things get out of control."  
  
The front door opened and Joyce Summers walked into the house. Buffy and Oz sprung apart. "Buffy!" Joyce walked into the kitchen and spotted a guilty-faced Oz and Buffy seated at opposite ends of the island. "What's cooking?"  
  
"Bean soup."   
  
"Smells delicious. Who's that on the tape?"  
  
Buffy and Oz both answered at the same time. "Lorne."  
  
"He's good."  
  
Buffy licked her lips and replied, "Yes, he's very good." Joyce gave Buffy a strange look and headed upstairs to change out of her work clothes.  
  
Oz spotted an out. "Why don't we box up this soup, and drive up to see him?"  
  
"You'd have to put me in the trunk. I won't make it that long." Buffy pulled her rings out from under her blouse and began fidgeting with them.  
  
"Bummer." Oz threw a popcorn kernel across the room, where it ricocheted off the refrigerator and into the trashcan. "What are you going to do?"  
  
"I called Ethan." Buffy pointed at her cell phone. "He just hasn't called back yet."  
  
Oz looked dubious. "Is that a good idea?"  
  
"He was at the card game last night. I suspect he's still in town. He's got lots of clients here. He'll call back."  
  
"You haven't been around him since you came back."  
  
"So?"  
  
"Giles won't like it."  
  
"Why? Ethan's not bad, not really. Just mischievous." Buffy looked confused. "Is there something I don't remember?"  
  
"That tattoo on your shoulder, that's from Ethan." Oz walked over to her, and traced the tattoo. "I know you don't remember, but he nearly killed you."  
  
"Why didn't you tell me that before I shagged him?"  
  
Oz shrugged, his usual neutral expression on his face. "I wasn't in L.A. the first time you shagged him. I would have told you." He tossed another kernel across the room. "He and Giles don't get along."  
  
"Why didn't say something before I fucked Giles?"  
  
"I had no idea that you were going to fuck Giles. You're barely speaking to each other. And for what its worth, Giles called it making love, not fucking."  
  
Buffy rolled her eyes. "Making up and making love are not the same thing. We hashed out some differences last night."  
  
"Obviously."  
  
"Is he going to smell Giles on me?"  
  
"You smelled like Giles before, it's not that different now. He's a sorcerer, not a were."  
  
"He'll call." Buffy looked at her cell phone as if trying to convince herself. "I hope. What am I going to do?"  
  
"Call Giles."  
  
"No." Buffy paced. "I'm going to go outside for a minute." She pulled a tash cigarette and her lighter out of her purse. "Can you watch the stove?"  
  
"Yeah. Sure." Oz puttered around the kitchen while waiting for Buffy to come back. A few minutes later, the doorbell rang, and he heard Joyce go to answer it. Joyce came back into the kitchen with a young man, tall with curly reddish-brown hair. He wore a clean navy oxford shirt and black jeans. Oz nodded at him and the new arrival gave a friendly wave.  
  
"I'm so glad you stopped by, I was hoping that Buffy could meet some new people her own age. Maybe put some spring back into her step. Please, let me set another seat at the table."   
  
Oz choked, tears streaming from his eyes. The newcomer popped him on the back. "All right, mate?"  
  
Oz coughed, then nodded. "Aaron, right?"  
  
"Yes." The young man smiled.  
  
"Anne's out back." Oz pointed out the window, where Buffy could be seen finishing her cigarette.  
  
Joyce poked her head outside. "Young lady, what do you think you're doing?"   
  
Buffy called back casually. "Having a fag, mom."   
  
"Come inside this instant!" Joyce's voice raised another octave. When Buffy reached the door, her eyes widened in shock. Joyce hissed in her ear. "There's a guest here for dinner. What is he going to think if he sees you smoking?"  
  
"Uh, Mom, Oz already knows I smoke. And I'm sure Aaron doesn't care." Buffy wasn't looking at Joyce, she had her eyes fully trained on Aaron. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"Buffy! That's no way to greet our guest. He's a respectable young man, behave."   
  
Buffy snickered and gave her Joyce a look of pure amusement. "Mom, are you trying to set me up? With Aaron?"   
  
Joyce didn't answer, but she set her face determinedly.  
  
"Aaron is not respectable, he's not a man -- he's a vampire, and he's got at least four centuries on Angel. And despite the fact that he's a hottie, he prefers men. And my mother should know better than to invite a stranger into the house after dark." Buffy walked over to Aaron. "Am I right?"  
  
Aaron chuckled. "Except for the four centuries bit. It's closer to forty. And she didn't invite me in. I have droit seigneur."  
  
Buffy's eyes widened in surprise, and she nodded. "I know you didn't come for soup. So what is it? Business or pleasure?"   
  
"It was business. Now, I'm not so sure." Aaron pulled Buffy closer and gave her a deceptively friendly hug, licking her neck on the side away from her mother. She didn't resist. He whispered into her ear. "Dinner could be nice. Favored childe of William, where is your sire?"   
  
"L.A."  
  
Aaron gave a seductive purr. "How very convenient for me." Oz growled.  
  
For the first time that night Joyce looked at her in alarm. "What is he talking about, Buffy?"  
  
"Can we not do this in front of my mother?" Buffy batted him away in annoyance, but didn't truly push him away. "I'll come willingly, there's no need to play games."  
  
Aaron fake-pouted. "But it's so much fun. Besides, it might be nice to have an audience. Such a lovely wolf you have, Anne." Oz growled again. "You stink of the watcher, no wonder your sire ran off without feeding you."  
  
"I fed this morning. I'm planning to hunt in a half hour if Ethan doesn't call back."  
  
"You don't feed from the wolf? How very curious."  
  
"Not when his mate's on her way and my mom is home. Now, do we really need to persist in this? You have succeeded in pushing my pride down the toilet, can we take this business upstairs?"  
  
  
  
"Your mate is the little red witch, right?"  
  
Oz nodded. "Willow."  
  
Aaron pulled Buffy closer to him and began whispering into her ear. Buffy was pressed flush against his body, and Oz had started up a continuous low whine under his breath.  
  
"Buffy, what is he saying to you?"  
  
"The nice young man here is telling me he has every right to toss me over the kitchen island and fuck me. And since William's not here to run interference, he might just do it. I'd prefer doing the nasty in the bedroom, Aaron. There's a perfectly decent bed up there.   
  
If you want an audience, we'll let Mr. Gordo watch. Come on." Buffy started to lead Aaron towards the stairs. "Well, I guess Mom managed to set me up with you."  
  
Aaron smiled broadly. "Indeed."  
  
The front door banged open. "Hullo! Anyone home!"  
  
Buffy answered quickly. "In the back, Ethan!"  
  
Ethan Rayne moved quickly to the back. When he spotted Aaron, he pulled out a stake. "Really, Aaron, is this necessary?"  
  
"It's okay, Ethan, he has droit seigneur."  
  
"I know, but he abandoned his claims over Aurelius a millennia ago. Why pursue them now?"  
  
"The Slayer."  
  
Sarcasm dripped from Ethan's voice. "This chit? You've got to be kidding me. She's the Slayer?"  
  
"Mom knows I'm the Slayer, Ethan. She may be in denial-land, but she knows."   
  
Ethan nodded, and dropped the pretense. "You'll break truce if you do this here, without William's permission."  
  
"Why? She's willing. I have rights."  
  
"If you want to assert the rights, you have to take on the responsibilities, Aaron. You'll be food, just like the rest of us. You just want to get her behind William's back, and walk away from the responsibility. Jarnisa would not approve."   
  
Aaron wrinkled his nose and released Buffy. "She stinks of the Watcher."  
  
Ethan tugged Buffy out of Aaron's reach. "She's always smelled like Ripper. I stink of Ripper more than she does, and it's never bothered you."  
  
"Not anymore. She's going to stink of him for the next nine months."  
  
Buffy snorted in disgust. "Great, another psychic loony. Now I know where Dru gets it from."  
  
Ethan grabbed Buffy by the shoulders and looked her straight in the eyes. "Bloody hell, Anne! You didn't use precautions?"  
  
"Can we not have this discussion in front of my mother?"  
  
"The mother's right here! And wants to know what the hell is going on!" Oz clamped a hand over Joyce's mouth and shot her a warning look.  
  
Ethan started to head for the door. "I'll kill the bastard!"  
  
"No. Ethan," Buffy whispered, tugging him back. "You won't."  
  
Ethan spared a glance for the vampire. "Aaron, go wait for me at my house. If you're looking for entertainment, I'll be there in an hour or so. I'm sure you'll find me much more amusing than Anne. And I won't need you afterwards." Aaron nodded and left without arguing.   
  
On the way out the door, Aaron turned back and looked at Buffy. "Kakistos is in town with a half dozen masters. He's mainly gunning for the black-haired slayer, but Jarnisa wants them dead. Ten thousand."  
  
Ethan looked at him in annoyance. "For Kakistos? Forget it. Thirty-five, and another five for each master. Or do your own dirty work. Go fetch the deposit on your way to my house. Out!" Aaron jumped on his way out as if he'd been slapped in the rear. Buffy giggled in a combination of panic and relief.  
  
Ethan threw an arm around Buffy's shoulders. She sagged a bit. "Come on, love, let's go upstairs. Good Lord, and I thought I worshipped chaos." Ethan picked Buffy up into his arms as if she weighed nothing, and carried her up the stairs. 


	14. About Faith

"Faith. You're early." Giles stood back to let the slayer in. "It's good to see you." When she crossed the threshold, he smiled. "You look lovely, I guess you enjoyed your time with Cordelia and Willow."  
  
"It was different." Faith looked in the mirror on Giles' hall tree. She couldn't get used to the new look. Her hair curled neatly in layers around her face. It was still long enough to pull into a ponytail, but right now, it hung in loose waves around her shoulders. Cordelia had taken her to a makeup counter at the department store, and she was now wearing makeup for the first time ever. She wore an emerald green silk blouse and some black linen slacks Cordy had talked her into. She hung her leather backpack on the hook. A pair of new Doc Maartens dangled from the bottom. "Patrolling clothes in there."   
  
Faith noticed the dining room table piled high with books. Giles had clearly been working. "I guess you're not ready for me yet." Despite the scene in the dining area, she could smell delicious scents wafting from the kitchen.  
  
"I'm just doing some light reading. Please make yourself at home. I'll have these picked up shortly. Let me check the food." Giles went to the kitchen, where he puttered, pulling the dinner out of the oven and throwing salads in bowls.   
  
Faith looked over the books on the tables. "Watcher's diaries, huh? Whose are you reading?"  
  
"Buffy's."   
  
Faith squinted over the diaries. "Why are you reading your own diaries?"  
  
"Not mine, her first watcher, Merrick."  
  
"Buffy had another watcher? I didn't know that."  
  
"He died about five months after she was called." Giles walked to the table, closing up the diaries and books, putting them away on a high shelf. "Buffy brought them by yesterday. It was believed his diaries were lost."  
  
"Oh." Faith sat at a seat at the table, tucking one foot underneath her. "Took her long enough to tell you. Sarah didn't even keep diaries for me, I'm not a real slayer."  
  
Giles looked at her in alarm. "What do you mean, not a real slayer?"  
  
"Well, the stuffy watcher sorts weren't too happy that the street rat got called, so they had some doctor come by. I woke up, and I wasn't the slayer anymore, some thirteen year old girl in Paris was."  
  
"What on earth do you mean?"  
  
"According to Sarah, he gave me some drug to stop my heart, then restarted it once the new slayer was activated. I know my chest hurt like hell for three days. Then they started sending us all over to get rid of vamps. I've been to twenty cities, at least."  
  
Giles was incredulous. "You're not serious."  
  
Faith shrugged. "Believe what you want."  
  
"So what happened to Sarah?"  
  
"She died." Faith stood up from the table and walked away. "I don't want to talk about it."  
  
"It's very hard when a slayer loses her watcher." Giles started to go to her, but the expression on Faith's face stopped him. "Buffy never spoke of her first watcher. Not until recently, anyway. And I don't think she remembers what happened anymore."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"She ran away over the summer, and when she came back, she had some amnesia. Honestly, I don't think she even remembers me."  
  
"That's pretty rough." Faith kicked off her slippers, revealing neatly painted toenails. "I wish I could forget. But I don't want to. I'm hungry, is the food ready?"  
  
"Well, if you want to talk, I'm here to listen. Sarah was a friend of mine for a long time. I was quite fond of her."  
  
Something in Giles' voice caused Faith to look askance at him. "You're the guy that bagged Sarah?"  
  
"Bagged?"  
  
"You're Jessie's dad. You know, Sarah's daughter." Faith teased. "The gorgeous long-legged redhead with all the curls and the green eyes, well, just like yours." Faith studied his face. "Huh. J.'s got your cheekbones, too."  
  
"Sarah didn't have any children."   
  
Faith frowned, but nodded. "If you say so." Turning her back on Giles, she clapped her hands together. "Let's eat. I'm hungry." Faith and Giles sat at the table, eating in relative quiet, occasionally making small talk.  
  
"Are you still staying with Cordelia?"  
  
"One more night. I'm moving in with B. and Oz. The girl has a monster house over on Crawford Street. I got the pick of five bedrooms. Course, the one I did pick, I might have to share. It's the only one whose owner might come back. But two beds, who cares? It's gorgeous. Huge bathroom, sunken tub."  
  
"Really?" Giles perked up from his meal, surprised.  
  
"Yup. Already paid her two months rent from my takings yesterday. Move in tomorrow. Course that's all I have, plus the things I picked up today." Faith pointed at the bag hanging on the hall tree.  
  
"Did Spike say you could move in?"  
  
"It's B.'s house, what difference does it make what Will thinks? He didn't seem to mind."  
  
"It's Spike's house, I thought."  
  
"No. B's ex left it to her when he died." Faith shrugged. "Guy must have been loaded. The place is enormous. B. didn't want me to pay rent, said it was fitting that another slayer should live there, but I don't like owing anybody anything." Faith pushed the last bits of food on her plate around, clearly finished eating. Leaning back in her chair, Faith gave Giles a wry grin. "So tell me, is this place crawling with watchers or what? What's the deal?"  
  
"I'm the only watcher here."  
  
"Riiight. And that's why I've sensed no less than six in the two days I've been in town."  
  
"Six?" Giles sat upright in his chair. "You can sense Watchers? That's an extremely rare skill among slayers."  
  
"Well, I not really a slayer, remember? So the rules don't apply to me." Faith tossed her napkin onto her plate. "Let's see, there's you. That's one. There's Will and Willow. Willow makes sense since she's your student, right? That makes three. There's the fellow who runs the Magic Box, and a black fellow who we ran into at the mall. He's a friend of Oz and B. I think he's staying at the mansion until he gets a house. And the guy who bought me coffee at the funky little coffee shop downtown and gave me a lift here. He got a page and couldn't clear out fast enough. But it was nice of him to give me a ride. So six so far. How am I doing?"  
  
"I'm afraid your watcher sense is a bit faulty. Willow's not a watcher, or a watcher-in-training. She's just an ordinary girl with some magic. And to my knowledge, there are no other watchers in town."  
  
"Man, watcher, you're shields are up so tight you can't see what's right in front of your face. Red's a freaking Watcher blowtorch. You need to teach her about shielding. She about knocks me over. Don't know how B. can stand it. Maybe that's why Piano-man is hanging around. He told Red that he could help her a bit but that she was mostly out of his league. Something about passing her on to a watcher more appropriate to her talents."  
  
"Really?" Giles was intrigued, but surprised that there was another watcher in town, and even more surprised that he was open about it. "What of the fellow at the coffee shop?"  
  
"Another Brit, about your age. A freaking inferno, like Red, but with black magic. He must be black ops. Name was, what was it? Evan, Aaron?"  
  
"Ethan," Giles ground out the name between clenched teeth, his eyes flashing with anger. "Ethan Rayne. Trouble. Not Council."  
  
"He was nice. Bought my coffee, gave me a ride here. Told me there's a price on my head, I shouldn't patrol without backup. Course, I already knew that, so it's not really news."  
  
"There's a price on your head?"  
  
"Kakistos doesn't like it when nasty little sort-of slayers stake his minions and get away."  
  
"Kakistos?" Giles wracked his brain for the vampire in question, but could only come up with a vague memory of a super-ancient Greek demon. "Where has the Council been sending you?"  
  
"Oh, he was in New Orleans visiting the master of the city. I was there to kill her, not Kakistos, didn't know he was around. He was still working out the protocol to get into the city. Those vamps do more political posturing than you would believe." Faith flopped on the couch. "You got a telly in this dump?" Feigning nonchalance, she reached for a motorcycle magazine Giles had left on the coffee table.   
  
"You killed the master of New Orleans?" Giles was sidetracked from Ethan's presence by this knowledge.  
  
"Theresa? Yup, she's dust. Not much of a fight. I guess Kakistos is master of New Orleans now. Maybe he should send me thank you note instead of trying to kill me."  
  
Giles sank into the couch across from Faith, a look of utter horror on his face. "She's killed no less than a dozen slayers. Theresa is one of the most vicious vampires known to man."  
  
"Was, being the operative word. Like I said, dust." Faith flipped through the magazine, admiring the chrome and leather of the cycles. "Hey, that's B.'s Harley." She held up a page.  
  
Giles noticed the bike on the page, nodding. He'd recognized Buffy's bike, too; it was the reason the particular magazine was out in his living room; the rest of his subscription was hidden away in the guest bedroom as if they were Playboy's. "So what sent Ethan scurrying off?"  
  
"Oh, what?" Faith looked up from the article. Apparently, she found the text intriguing enough to read it. "Oh, Ethan. Said B. paged him, some sort of trouble at her house."  
  
"And you didn't go with him?"  
  
"Nah, he said he could handle it. Hey, Jeeves, what are you doing?" Giles grabbed Fath by the elbow and steered her out the door and into his Citroen. 


	15. Upstairs

Ethan dropped Buffy gently on the bed and slid in beside her. "That Aaron's a right annoying prat. Let Ethan take care of you." He reached for the knife he kept hidden up his sleeve, and passed it to Buffy, who took it and sliced his wrist. Ethan hissed as the blade cut his skin, then spooned her from behind while she fed.  
  
"Did you really shag old Rupert?" Buffy nodded against his wrist, not releasing him. "And no protection?" Buffy nodded again, and relaxed against Ethan. "So you're pregnant, then." Buffy's response was to shrug her shoulders. "Why?" Another shrug. Ethan leaned back against the pillows, pulling Buffy almost atop him. He contemplated this as she fed. When her suckling slowed, he commented, "I thought the old boy had more sense. Obviously not. Did you get Rupert or Ripper?"  
  
Buffy released his arm. "Rupert, I think. He was pretty playful, though. It was just this morning, it's too early to tell if I'm pregnant."  
  
"If Aaron says you're pregnant, it's probably true." Ethan reached over to Buffy, unbuttoning her blouse with a single practiced hand. "Huh. Ripper's kid, not too shabby."  
  
"Please don't tell him. I usually miscarry at seven weeks, anyway." Buffy's face fell. "I'll probably lose this one, too."  
  
"How many miscarriages have you had?"  
  
"Twelve, thirteen, maybe." Buffy shrugged. "I never used protection there. I only had five live births in over seventy years of married life. I lost my last one when it was nearly due."  
  
"Well, you're not living in the Dark Ages anymore. There are things that can be done. Proper medications. I'll make an appointment for you with Dr. Abbott tomorrow. That is, if you want to try to keep it. Or even if you don't. There are medications for that, too, you know."  
  
Buffy made a face. "That's never any fun. If I am going to lose this baby, I'd rather lose it naturally. Much safer." Ethan looked surprised. "Hey, I was a mercenary, I've had my share of pregnancies on the wrong side of the blankets. And, yes, I did get rid of them."  
  
"Come now, I told you, it's not the Dark Ages any more." Ethan trailed a finger down Buffy's chest. "You can rid yourself of a pregnancy without any real danger."  
  
Buffy looked pensive, then shook her head. "Why didn't you tell me the two of you had a falling out? I wouldn't have done it."  
  
"I don't care if you shag Ripper. I'd like a go at him myself." Ethan propped himself up on one elbow as he pulled Buffy's blouse open, revealing a tiny white lace bra. "You always pick the most appealing undies, Anne. Like unwrapping a present."   
  
"And Will keeps ripping them to shreds." Buffy rolled over to face Ethan. "Is Giles going to care about us?"  
  
Ethan feigned innocence and took on a Cockney accent. "What, the two of us, together?"  
  
Buffy slapped at him playfully. "Yes, silly."  
  
"It's safe to say, he would be absolutely livid if he found out." Ethan reached around her back to unclasp her bra. "As I told you, I'm a scoundrel and a very naughty man."  
  
Buffy took on a thoughtful look as she straddled Ethan, dropping her blouse and bra on the floor and helping him out of his shirt. "When was the last time you made love to Rupert Giles?"  
  
Ethan raised his eyebrows. "I never said I was Rupert's lover."  
  
"Read his blood yesterday morning, you're thoroughly entrenched in it. You were his first, and the only for a long time."  
  
"Big words, Annie." Ethan settled Buffy astride his hips while he trailed fingers along her bare sides, tracing imaginary patterns along her breasts and stomach. "I haven't made love to Rupert Giles since before you were born."   
  
"Truly?"  
  
"Truly." Ethan pulled Buffy down for a tender kiss, thoroughly exploring her mouth. "But the better question is, when was the last time I fucked Ripper?"  
  
"Mmm. I love your throat Ethan, I can't wait to mark it." Buffy lowered herself to his throat, suckling at the pulse point. Ethan thrust up towards her involuntarily, giving a deep moan. "Must be the vampire in me showing its true colors. When did you last fuck Ripper?"  
  
"In July in San Francisco, I met up with him in a bar. He was looking for you. Seemed to be convinced I might know something about it. Took a week for the bruises to heal."  
  
"Poor Giles." Buffy lifted her face, trailing kisses along the side of Ethan's face. "And you didn't tell him you knew where I was."  
  
"Poor Ethan." Ethan stretched out underneath Buffy, Lifting his knees to support her back, he tugged at the button on her leather pants. "Ethan here is getting a bit impatient."  
  
"Good things come to those who wait."  
  
"Better things come to pretty girls who put their mouths to better use than asking questions about my ex-lovers."  
  
"Oh, is that how it is?"  
  
"Yes, quite."  
  
"Roll over, lover." Buffy hopped off, giving Ethan a chance to roll beneath her. She traced the fine lines on his back with a finger, then, beginning close to his neck, she began to run her tongue over each line, slowly working her way from one end to the other. When she reached the top of his pants, she helped him out of them, and then began laving the deep furrows across his buttocks. Ethan writhed beneath her, biting back small moans into the pillow. "Is this better use?"  
  
"Mmff. Yes, dear."   
  
"Giles did this." It was a statement, not a question.  
  
"Ripper did that. Rupert Giles would never stoop to such kinky pastimes." Ethan lost his patience with Buffy, rolling her over, pushing her to the bed and pulling her pants off.   
  
"He did say you were lovers."  
  
"Imagine that. Rupert Giles 'fessing up to his bisexuality. Amazing."  
  
"Well, there's no hiding what's plain to see in his blood. You did plenty of magic together as well." Buffy was distracted as Ethan began licking her stomach, unerringly following her stretch marks. "What do you find so fascinating about those ugly things, anyway?"  
  
"You, new life. The very idea of a child growing in that sweet warm womb of yours. I can get close, but I can never truly reach it." Ethan continued his attentions to her abdomen.  
  
"If it had been you this morning, it could have been your child, not his."  
  
Ethan shook his head. "I would have used protection. Besides, I had a vasectomy years ago. Spent enough time taking care of Ripper's bastards, don't need to make any of my own."  
  
"Giles has illegitimate children?"  
  
"He's never acknowledged any of them. But yes." Ethan gave a disgusted grunt. "And he considers me the one without ethics. I've never left any women with child and no resources." Ethan moved lower on Buffy, spreading her thighs.  
  
Buffy chided him. "You're trying to distract me."  
  
"Yes, I am. You have dinner guests downstairs, and we're taking entirely too long."   
  
Buffy pouted. "I like slow. We're always fucking, it's never any more than that."  
  
"So do I. And I'm happy to do it sometime, but this isn't the time for it." Ethan divested her of her panties. "And I don't find discussing Ripper's bastards conducive to good sex."  
  
"How am I supposed to trust him if he isn't honest with me? He still sees me as a child."  
  
"If Rupes shagged you this morning, he certainly doesn't see you as a child." Ethan settled himself between her thighs, working his way into her. "Besides, Rupert thinks he's being straight with you, pardon the pun." Ethan smirked, then his face turned serious. "He's just not honest with himself."   
  
"And you are?"  
  
"I'm honest with you. No point in lying, you could smell it. I may be a good crook, but I'm a very bad liar." Ethan began thrusting slowly into her. "Besides, I've got you exactly where I want you."  
  
Buffy giggled. "Under you. Course, it doesn't bother you that this would make Giles angry?"  
  
"Darling, irritating Ripper is just ice cream on a delicious slice of cake." 


	16. Rivals

Willow entered the Summer's home through the front door and walked straight to the kitchen where Oz was tending the pot of soup and Joyce Summers was bustling about, loading rolls into the oven and setting the dining room table. Willow could hear Joyce muttering under her breath, but couldn't make out what she was saying. "What's with Mrs. Summers?"  
  
"Oh, she invited Aaron to dinner, but he didn't stay." Oz glanced over at Buffy's mom.   
  
"Aaron? Aaron who?"  
  
"Jarnisa's second."  
  
"Oh. That Aaron." Willow glanced over at Joyce, who was headed to the dining room with a load of napkins and soupspoons. She whispered under her breath. "Did Buffy stake him?" Oz shook his head no. "I don't understand, why is she so friendly with the vamps all the sudden?"  
  
"She isn't." Oz's expression was completely bland.  
  
"So where is Buffy now?"  
  
"Upstairs." Oz opened his arms to his girlfriend with a come-hither look.  
  
"Oooh. Cuddles!" Willow moved into Oz's embrace. "Who wears vanilla perfume?"  
  
"Buffy, we were dancing to some music." Oz pointed at the stereo, which had run out. He pushed play, and pulled Willow into his arms. She giggled. The sound of Lorne crooning "Stand by Me" came on.  
  
"As long as you were just dancing."  
  
"Just a friendly dance." Oz pulled Willow close. "You're the only girl I want to dance dirty with." He let out a small growl in her ear. "Wolves are strictly monogamous. You're my mate. And we're possessive, too." He tightened his hold on her. "Love you, Willow."  
  
"But, I thought, well, you've had other girls."   
  
"I wasn't a wolf then."   
  
"Oh." Willow smiled to herself as she heard Oz's rumbling purr as he ran his hands up and down her back. "So who's making with the mojo? Is Giles here?"  
  
"Mojo?" Oz pulled back for a second, "What do you mean?"  
  
"Somebody's doing some magic. There are wards up, and some sort of charm? I think." Willow looked over to where Joyce was shredding the salad. "You haven't taken up Wicca, have you, Joyce?"  
  
"Me? No. We're Presbyterian." Joyce began spinning the salad spinner. "Who knows what Buffy is up to? Maybe she's doing the magic."  
  
"No. I think magic and slayers are unmixy things. That's why they have Watchers. Who else is here?"  
  
"That man that came over and told Aaron to leave." Joyce looked puzzled. "Who was he? I don't know why? Buffy and Aaron seemed to be getting along just fine."  
  
"Ethan." Oz told her.  
  
"Ethan. He seemed a bit old for Buffy. How old is he?"  
  
"Great, he did a spell on you." Willow looked disgusted.  
  
"Forty-three." Oz told her. "They are friends. He's an old school chum of Giles."  
  
"Ethan turned me into a ghost!" Willow started up the stairs.  
  
"Willow, I wouldn't recommend going up there." Willow ignored him and continued up the stairs until she hit a barrier and bounced off, taking two steps to regain her balance.   
  
"He's closed off the whole upstairs!" Willow returned, sitting on the stool next to Oz with a sulk on her face. Oz gave her a friendly growl and pulled her close. "He could hurt Buffy, or have her under a charm, or be setting a trap for Giles or…" Oz shut her up with a kiss.  
  
"They want privacy."  
  
"Why would Ethan and Buffy want privacy?" Willow was unbelieving. Joyce was studying the two teenagers with a curious look.  
  
Oz whispered in her ear so Joyce couldn't hear. "They tend to be vocal in their lovemaking."  
  
"No. No. No!" Willow was shaking her head and whispering loudly. "You've got to be kidding me. This is not happening. Ethan's evil."  
  
"You don't care for Ethan, then?" Joyce set her plate down and sat across from the teenagers. "He's been very polite the few times he's been over."  
  
"Ethan's been here?" Oz looked surprised at this information.  
  
"Oh, yes. He helps supply artifacts for the gallery. He's especially helpful with southeast African art. I've known him, what, almost two years now?" Joyce looked up at the sound of footsteps on the stairs.  
  
"Hi, Wills." Buffy walked down the back steps into the kitchen, Ethan right behind her. He was in a freshly starched lavender shirt, and was starting to tie his tie. "I'll get that." Buffy let Ethan pass, and stood on the first step so she could reach his tie. "Half-Windsor or four-in-hand?"  
  
"Windsor." Ethan smirked. "Decided to try my wards, little witch?"  
  
"Oooh, a challenge." Buffy giggled, and began working her fingers through the dark violet silk tie. "Why dressing up, anyway?"  
  
"Got to go back to the Magic Box and meet with David. He wants to buy some of your herb stock. Is the list of your supplies at the mansion?"  
  
"Oh." Buffy smoothed down his tie. "Yes, it's in the top right drawer of my desk. What about Aaron, is he going to get antsy and come back here?"  
  
"Nah. He needs to hunt, and it'll take him a bit to come up with the deposit." Buffy nodded. "Besides, he'd rather have me. No offense, he prefers males, and you're a really lousy sub."  
  
Buffy made a face and said sarcastically. "Thanks a lot, Ethan."   
  
"You're a slayer, you're not cut out to be a bottom."  
  
"And you are? Is he going to hurt you?"  
  
"I like it, dear. You don't. And, no, he can't do me any real harm. My house is packed with magic fail-safes." Ethan smiled at her fondly and patted her cheek. "Don't worry about me, I've played with Aaron before." Ethan pushed her hair back from her face. "Lovely girl. I don't like the thought of him touching you. Got to keep him occupied for the next few months."  
  
"I can top you, and much more safely for you than some depraved antique vampire." Buffy looked up at him unhappily, not noticing that Giles had come quietly into the kitchen, and was eavesdropping on the conversation,   
  
"I know, darling, but this one time, let me do this for you." Ethan noticed Giles and Faith behind Buffy and frowned. "I'm sure Will can straighten things out when he gets back."  
  
Buffy was still frowning. "Don't let David cheat me."  
  
"For the herbs? Not a chance." Ethan smiled, eyeing Giles suspiciously over Buffy's shoulder. "That's why we're going through David, not Willie."   
  
"I don't like Willie. He's a sneak."  
  
"Nobody likes Willie."  
  
"Lorne does."  
  
"No, Lorne doesn't. He's got Willie over a barrel, and Willie's paying the two of us through the nose for next week's engagement. It does Lorne no good to rub Willie's face in it."   
  
"Well, at least I get a solid week of Lorne lovin'." Buffy grinned. "I like that."  
  
"That's my Annie girl. Chin up." Ethan gave Buffy a kiss on the cheek and whispered in her ear. "Ripper's here."  
  
Buffy whirled around and shrank into Ethan, giving Giles a hard stare. "What are you doing here?"  
  
Giles' mouth was set in a tight line. "The better question is what the hell is that bastard doing here?" His voice was harsh and his jaw was twitching.  
  
"A favor."  
  
"He's a snake! You can't possibly trust him."   
  
"Hullo, there, Ripper. Nice to see you too." Ethan grinned at him, a taunt in his voice.  
  
Buffy crossed her arms over her chest. "You don't pick my friends, Giles."  
  
Giles pushed past Buffy heading for Ethan. "Give me one good reason not to pound your sorry hide into pulp."  
  
"I say, if anyone has just cause, I think it would be me. But I really don't think we should turn Joyce's lovely home into a battle ground." Ethan griped as he headed for the refrigerator, pouring himself a glass of orange juice. "You got any cookies, darling?" Buffy walked to pantry and tossed a bag of Chips Ahoy to him.   
  
"And how do you figure that?"  
  
"Two words, Ripper." Ethan approached Giles with easy confidence, holding up two fingers and saying in a low voice, "No johnnie."  
  
Giles recoiled. "That's none of your business."  
  
Ethan popped a cookie in his mouth. "You like to break your toys when you're done playing with them, Ripper. How long until you tire of your latest one?"  
  
"Damn you."  
  
"Good thing this one has more friends than the last one."  
  
"She is not a toy."  
  
"Keep telling yourself that. You and I both know you're a bleeding rounder. Faith, where are you and Sarah holed up?"  
  
Faith shrugged. "Sarah's dead. I'm moving into B.'s mansion."  
  
Ethan rolled his eyes and stepped back from Giles. "Lovely, Ripper. Did you break her too? What did you do, pull the bird's wings off and fry them for dinner? Nah, you probably just handed her over to the council with the perfect set up for blackmail."   
  
Faith hissed sadly under her breath, now regarding Giles with an expression of distrust. "Jessie."  
  
"Fuck you, Ethan. I'm going to kill you." Giles started for Ethan, fists up, only to find Buffy holding him back.  
  
"Don't Giles, he's a guest in my home, I asked him here, and he's doing me a favor."  
  
"What could he possibly do for you that I can't?"  
  
Buffy smiled sweetly. "He's letting Aaron top him. Would you rather do it?"  
  
Giles blanched. "Bloody hell. Aaron? Why?" For a split second, compassion for his old lover crept into his voice. It was gone as quickly as it came.  
  
Ethan couldn't resist another snide comment. "Jealous, Ripper? I didn't know you had it in you."  
  
Buffy frowned again, looking at her feet unhappily and scuffing at the floor. "So I don't have to."   
  
Ethan turned to Buffy and ran his hand down the side of her face, cupping her cheek. "I told you I don't mind."  
  
"And I do mind. Call me when he leaves so I know you're okay." Anxiety was written all over Buffy's face and she looked completely defeated.  
  
"Sure thing, love." Oz took Buffy by the hand and pulled her to him on the side opposite Willow. Buffy nestled into Oz's side, seeking comfort and reaching out to squeeze Willow's hand. "I'll swing by the house a seven a.m. to take you to Abbott." Buffy nodded, and Ethan pulled on a suede jacket he had left on the counter blowing a kiss to Giles on the way out.   
  
Giles began muttering curses in ancient Babylonian. Buffy stared at him in shock. "Giles! Watch your language! And I know for a fact that's not possible, I've tried it. Very uncomfortable."  
  
"Maybe you haven't tried it with the right person, dear," Giles replied sarcastically, eyeing Ethan's retreating form.  
  
"Well, I'll ask him the next time he's around." Buffy smirked back at her irritated Watcher.  
  
"You will do no such thing!" 


	17. Prophecies and principals

"Giles, could you help me with this?" Buffy pointed at a book in front of her and indicated a passage. "I can't figure out if this is future or future perfect. It seems an odd way of phrasing." Giles adjusted his glasses and picked up the text in question.   
  
"What are you reading?" He turned the book over to peer at the cover. "Oh. Nostradamus. Well, that's ambitious. It's future perfect." He recited the passage in question in flawless 16th century French. Buffy closed her eyes and listened to the passage. "What do you think?"  
  
"Lovely, Giles. Can you repeat it?" Buffy mused and nodded as Giles repeated the quatrain. "It's got a little pun in it."   
  
Giles immediately flickered from librarian mode to full Watcher mode. "Oh, of course. I should make a note of that in my diaries."  
  
"Does this passage refer to the slayer?" Buffy chewed on her pinky nail watching the thoughts flicker through Giles' eyes.   
  
"Oh. I don't think so. You could refer to Thessy's Second codex. It has a list of the prophecies of Nostradamus that are thought to be slayer prophecies. I think there are only three dozen that have yet to come to pass, and most of those shouldn't happen for a few centuries yet."  
  
"Sam thinks it might refer to me and Faith."  
  
"Really? Sam who?"  
  
"Sam Mbuto, you know, Kendra's watcher. He asked me to check up on it." Buffy took the book back. "Decided to kill two birds with one stone. I need to do a French poetry report, and I also wanted something slayery. Where's this codex?"  
  
"It's locked in the cage. Mainly because it's valuable, not because it's dangerous. I'll go fetch it for you." Giles walked over to the cage, unlocking it, and pulling out the book in question He flipped through the pages, handing her the book to her open to a page. "The slayer quatrains are listed here."  
  
"It mentions the dark killer. At first he thought it was Kendra, because she was black. And now he thinks it may be Faith. Of course, if the quatrain is a slayer prophecy, I'm probably the dark killer."  
  
"Pah. Oh, hardly. That's ridiculous." Giles gave a chortle. "Where ever did you get that idea?"  
  
"I'm still puzzling over the prophecy, Giles. It's just speculating. You know me, I'm prophecy girl." Buffy laughed humorlessly. "And I know my true name. So I can recognize poor approximations of it in old French."  
  
"Miss Summers!" Snyder crashed through the library doors, leaving them swinging wildly back and forth in his wake.   
  
Buffy didn't look up from her book, but answered politely. "Yes, sir."  
  
"Don't 'yes, sir' me, young lady! Detention, two hours, today. Mrs. Tannenbaum."  
  
"Fine. May I ask why?"  
  
"You did not report to homeroom this morning."  
  
"I was late and signed in at the main office. Mrs. Cleland said since I was a senior, that I didn't need to report to homeroom. But if you say so." Buffy returned to her book.   
  
"Well, you are on academic probation, so you do not have senior privileges."  
  
"Academic probation?"  
  
"Yes. Your first term grades are atrocious."  
  
"I got a B in Chemistry. I fail to see the problem with my grades." Buffy pulled out her new report card. "A, A, A, B, A, A-. Honor roll. This is academic probation?"  
  
"Let me see that!" Snyder snatched the report card from Buffy and looked it over, then began ripping it to little pieces. "I will have a discussion with your teachers. Clearly you are cheating."  
  
"You signed it." Buffy shrugged. "That's not the original."  
  
"I will discuss the problem of your cheating with your teachers. We will have to monitor your examinations more thoroughly. What a waste of time for a burger flinger."  
  
"Burger flinger?" Buffy looked puzzled, then streamed off a few questions to Giles in French. He answered, and she returned her attention to Snyder. "I plan to go to UCLA next year. I doubt I'll be flinging burgers."  
  
"You will never be accepted to UCLA. Don't waste your time." Snyder cackled. "Well, maybe, go ahead. It will be fun to watch you flounder."  
  
"I've already been accepted. Full scholarship. Classics department. In fact, I was accepted for this fall, but decided to stay here and finish out my senior year." Buffy returned to the Codex Giles had fetched, searching the list of Nostradamus quatrains pertaining to slayers. Snyder stood there fuming while Buffy ran her finger down the page, reading each prophecy. "This one happened over the summer, Giles. In August. We can discuss it later." Buffy handed the book back to Giles, who read the quatrain, nodded, and took the book over to the librarian's table in the corner. "Anything else, Mr. Snyder?"  
  
"Hand over your bags, Miss Summers." Snyder snatched her purse from the table. "I'm certain there's some contraband in there."  
  
Giles stepped behind Snyder, picking Buffy's purse from his hand. "Principal Snyder, I must insist that you call the school police officer if you feel the need to search Buffy's private things."  
  
"Oh, I'm sure our fine, upstanding Miss Summers would not want to involve the police."  
  
Buffy smiled sweetly. "Calling the school officer is fine. I'd rather not have you further damaging my belongings."   
  
Snyder grumbled, but the Ripperish glare he was receiving from Giles forced him to retreat to the telephone behind the counter and call the police officer that patrolled the school during the day.   
  
"What seems to be the problem, Principal Snyder?" Sergeant Patrick Maws walked into the room. He was just shy of six foot and built like a linebacker. His black skin gleamed almost blue in the light from the upper windows of the library, his high fine cheekbones and almost-too-delicate mouth combining with his midnight black almond-shaped eyes to create a face that belonged on GQ magazines, not patrolling the hallways of Sunnydale High.   
  
Buffy gave a little dreamy sigh when he grinned at her earning a glower from Giles. She noticed and commented facetiously, "What? I can't look?"  
  
"No." Giles bit out. "He's too old for you."  
  
Buffy sniggered and winked at the police officer, who chuckled, appreciating the attention. "Mr. Snyder here wants you to search my bags for contraband. I don't want Snyder damaging any more of my stuff."  
  
"Certainly, Buffy. Do you want me to call your mom down here for you?"  
  
"Nah. There's nothing in there. But go right ahead and look." Buffy pushed back from the table. "I'll just move out of the way. Buffy picked up the book up from the table and moved away.  
  
"Leave the book there, Miss Summers. It may be contraband." Buffy put the book back down on the table. "Sergeant Maws?"   
  
Giles placed Buffy's purse on the table. Sergeant Maws began removing items from the purse. "Three pencils, one pen, a zippo lighter, one package of clove cigarettes, unopened." The items were placed on the table for Snyder's inspection. "A crucifix, two bottles of… holy water?" Two vials were placed on the table.  
  
Snyder smiled broadly. "That's real likely. Smell them."   
  
Sergeant Maws opened the bottles, took a sniff. "Smells like water to me." Snyder reached for the vials. "I must insist that you stand back Mr. Snyder. Buffy has asked that you not handle her things."  
  
Snyder stiffened, then waved for the sergeant to continue. "Lipstick. Powder."  
  
"Cocaine?" Snyder looked almost giddy with glee.  
  
Maws frowned. "No. Estee Lauder. It's still sealed in plastic. A wallet and checks, and two small books. A prescription for, I can't pronounce it." The slip of paper was set on the table. "A picture album." The final items were placed on the table.   
  
Snyder sulked. "Check the wallet."   
  
"Fine, sir." Sergeant Maws gave Buffy a questioning look; she nodded in response. . He opened the wallet. "Driver's license, motorcycle license, two credit cards, concealed weapons permit, bank card for California National Bank, Blockbuster video card. Roughly three hundred dollars cash, a bank stub. There's nothing of any concern in here."  
  
"How did Miss Summers obtain a concealed weapons permit? She has a criminal record! How did you get three hundred dollars, Miss Summers?"  
  
"I do not have a criminal record! The money is from my wages – look at the bank stub and the receipt from my last paycheck."   
  
Officer Maws studied the two papers in question. "She has a deposit here that matches her wages from Caritas. Withdrew four hundred fifty dollars, one week ago. Mr. Snyder, this is a bit beyond the pale. There is no reason to further harass Buffy."  
  
"Hand me that prescription. What drug is it?" Snyder reached for the slip of paper on the desk, but was stopped when the officer picked it up.  
  
"I can't pronounce it. It's a Dr. Abbotts, prescribed this morning. This is a violation of patient rights."   
  
"Miss Summers has no rights in this school! She will submit to a drug test, and I will call both the physician and a pharmacist and see if this prescription is valid and to what purpose the drug is used. For all I know it is a forged prescription for a restricted drug. Medicinal marijuana?"  
  
Buffy scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous. It's hormones. Jane Abbott is an ob-gyn. If you do a drug test, you're wasting your time."  
  
"If you'll accompany me, Miss Summers, we will call your mother and let her see what you've been up to."  
  
"She won't be able to get anymore information than you already have. You can call the pharmacist, but Abbott, legally, can't tell you anything."  
  
Snyder rubbed his hands together almost gleefully. "Oh, but I can tell your mother whatever I please. I'm sure she'll be fascinated to know her daughter is on birth control pills."  
  
"They are not birth control pills!" Buffy rolled her eyes. "Call a pharmacist. It's a perfectly legal prescription for a perfectly legal drug."  
  
"That won't be necessary. Sergeant Maws, over here, please." Giles pulled out a Sunnydale phone book. "Here's Jane Abbott's listing. And here's a pharmaceutical reference book. This is a library, you know. We have resources. With your permission, Buffy?" At her nod, Giles opened the reference book, flipping through it until he came to the drug in question. When he read the information, he slammed the book shut. "Hormones. Says so right here. Not for birth control. Sergeant Maws, please remove Principal Snyder from my library. Principal Snyder, stop harassing, Buffy."  
  
Snyder looked back over his shoulder and glared at Giles on his way out. "I will be calling your mother."  
  
Sergeant Maws yanked a bit on Snyder's arm. "And I will be filing a report about this incident at the precinct." 


	18. Senses

Buffy and Giles were perched on a pair of tombstones, waiting for two risers. Buffy sat, her crossbow leveled at the newly turned earth fifteen feet away. Buffy had asked him to accompany her this evening, saying she didn't feel right hunting alone, and that Faith was off tonight. "She's too nervous, she'll get herself killed if one of Kakistos's minions comes after her." So Giles came with, a sword strapped to his side, and three stakes stashed in various pockets.  
  
Giles had not said a word to Buffy about Ethan since seeing him the night before, and he was curious as to the relationship between the two of them. "I trust Ethan is all right."  
  
"Yeah. He's a bit sore, but nothing much." Buffy smiled wistfully, "Stupid pillock." The look on her face was fond, but slightly sad. "I don't understand him, but then, I understand you even less."  
  
Giles looked at her sharply, but her attention was still focused solely on the earth that lay quiet before the tombstones. "What do you mean?"  
  
Buffy shrugged, not able to put her thoughts into words. Then she took a deep breath and said, "Why would you hurt him? Why does he like it? He says it's because I'm the slayer; I can't understand. It's not in my nature. But I want to. He loves you." Buffy studied her hands, twisting the tiny ring on her pinky around her finger. "I've been on both ends, giving and receiving, but I took no pleasure in it. Maybe it's a man thing."  
  
Giles sighed, and ran his hand through his hair. "You're so young, Buffy, and so innocent." "Giles, wake up! I've got at least forty years on you. I'm not young, and there's no innocence here. I've tortured people, for information, as punishment, and just revenge. I've killed for no other reason than my liege lord asked me to. I was a spy and assassin. I've been caught, you've seen the scars. I don't enjoy inflicting torture and I like being on the receiving end even less. Are you still fooling yourself?" Despite her harsh words and the strong feelings that accompanied them, she still had her eyes fixed on the target.  
  
Giles cleared his throat and answered cautiously. "With the right partner, someone you trust, it can be..." He trailed off British watcher persona that was usually firmly in place around Buffy warred with his true self. "It can intensify the experience, if it is done well. It is liberating."  
  
"You've fucked me, and you still can't talk sex with me without stuttering. You are a strange man, Rupert Giles." Buffy shoved a crossbow bolt into place, training the crossbow on the grave across from them. "I've certainly never had anyone I trusted wielding the whip." She shrugged.  
  
Giles shoved his hands in his pockets, watching his slayer, wondering at the stranger was that had taken up residence in her body. "You are so different. I hardly know you."  
  
"I suppose. I don't remember what I was like."  
  
"Do you remember why you left?"  
  
"No. I know what Oz and Will and Lorne have told me. Ethan says I was a holier-than-thou bitch. Will says I always dressed well. He's picked out most of my clothes. Lorne, well, he doesn't say much about what I was like before. I haven't told Willow or Xander about the memory loss. My mom still thinks of me as a little girl, I don't want to bust her bubble. Ethan has done some magic to keep my mom oblivious, but." Buffy stared across the cemetery, silent. The silence stretched out into minutes and hours. The earth a few feet away started to shift. As soon as the fledgling's heart was exposed above the ground, Buffy pulled the trigger and the half-exposed vampire disintegrated into dust. Buffy then trained the crossbow on the adjacent grave, waiting for the next fledgling to rise.  
  
Fifteen minutes of silence later, the process was repeated, and another fledgling was dusted before even fully rising from the grave. "Not very sporting of you."  
  
Buffy threw the crossbow across her back and began trudging out of the cemetery to where the Citroen was parked. "Do you care? They're dust."  
  
"I care. I am happy to see you being careful. I prefer that you stay safe. I never liked sending you out every night. Before, I was always after you to be more efficient and go for a quick clean kill." Giles shrugged. "Crossbow bolts are expensive, but I'd rather buy them than have you hurt."  
  
Buffy flashed him a grin. "I've got ten cases at the mansion. Don't worry about buying any anytime soon." Giles held the door open for her as she climbed into the car, then put the crossbow and his sword in the boot before hopping into the driver's seat and starting off. Buffy watched his hands on the steering wheel and ran one finger down his arm tracing the darkest line of hair from his finger to his elbow. "Giles?"  
  
Giles tightened his grip on the steering wheel and cleared his voice to control his response to Buffy's feather-light touches. "Yes, Buffy."  
  
"Were we lovers before? I mean, before I left?"  
  
"No." Giles shook his head. "As far as I know, your only lover was Angelus."  
  
He glanced over to see her mind thoughtfully processing this information. "Were we friends?"  
  
Giles shrugged. "I'd like to think so. We spent a lot of time together. But, I am an old man and you are, you were, mostly a child. It was not appropriate. Hell, it's not appropriate now." Giles drove swiftly through the Sunnydale streets, heading at his house. His mind half on the memory of his vibrant young slayer just six months before, and half wondering if he could seduce the woman who wore her body now.  
  
Buffy smirked at him as they entered his apartment. "You're wondering if you are going to get laid." She chuckled.  
  
"What makes you think such a thing?'  
  
"I can smell it. Vampire senses are kicking in. What does Willow call them, pheromones?"  
  
Giles took her jacket, and hung it on the hall tree. "It could be slayer senses."  
  
"It could be, but the vampire ones seem to be more honed to blood and sex, not tracking and stalking. The slayer senses are more demon specific. I can track a human with the slayer senses, but it's easier to just use my knowledge of tracking. But a vampire, I can feel every vampire within ten miles, I'd guess. With a little more practice, I could tell you who they are."  
  
"Really? How many are there?"  
  
"Do you have a map?" Giles pulled out a battered Sunnydale map, and Buffy took a pencil, marking each lair in Sunnydale and how many were there. Giles let out a low whistle when she was done. "That's amazing. I've never heard of a slayer who could do such a thing."  
  
"Faith can do it also. Just not as specific. She knows where they are, but she can't hone into them. We're working on it. I think she's still too scared to feel out specific vampires." Buffy pushed back from the coffee table where the map was placed, crawling back up to the sofa to take a seat next to Giles. "I can tell you roughly where all the vampires I know are right now, but Faith is so afraid of Kakistos, she won't hone into individuals."  
  
"Where is Kakistos?"  
  
"Don't know. Never met him. But Jarnisa says his little group is holed up in the basement of a house by the beach." Buffy pointed to a pushpin on a street two blocks from the ocean. "There are about ten of them over there."  
  
"What are you going to do about them?"  
  
Buffy glanced at her watcher, her eyes cold and dark, emotionless. "Kill them all."  
  
"Like that, no plan, nothing?"  
  
Buffy shivered a bit, her body betraying an emotion her eyes did not reveal. Giles wondered if it were eagerness or fear. "I have a plan."  
  
"Yes?" Giles waited. As the moments ticked by, he lost his patience. "Are you going to elaborate?"  
  
"No." Buffy ran her hands over Giles' shoulders, massaging them gently. "You're tense." She ran her hand up his neck, leaning in to whisper in his ear. "Do you still want to shag?" She took his hand in hers and touched it to her bare midriff.  
  
"Christ, Buffy!" Giles tried to look annoyed but he knew his body was betraying him. After two years of near celibacy, any chance of a tryst with a partner was welcome. "Are you trying to distract me?"  
  
"Distract you? Why would I want to do that?" Buffy gave her watcher an impish smile. "I just want all your attention on me." 


	19. Selfish

"I can't believe it, how could he do this to me?" Cordelia's whine cut across the sunny courtyard just outside the library where she was eating lunch with Xander and Willow.

Xander flipped a bug off his slacks. "I fail to see what this has to do with you." He reached in his brown paper sack and pulled out a twinkie. "And why are we eating here instead of on the quad?"

"I wouldn't want to be seen with losers, now, would I?"

Willow snorted, and waved wildly when she saw Buffy and Oz approaching, a big white bag of food dangling from one hand. "What Larry and Andrew do or don't do, has nothing to do with you, Cordy."

"They got caught in the boys locker room. He asked me to the prom last year. I turned him down, but this is just humiliating!" Cordelia's face was a mask of offended dignity.

"What happened?" Buffy plopped down next to Willow, laying her head on Willow's backpack.

Willow answered quickly. "Larry and Andrew got caught with their pants down in the boy's locker room, so to speak."

Faith, who had been tailing behind Oz and Buffy, remarked, "And this is news, why exactly? It's not like they haven't been doing each other for years."

"Years? Years?" Cordy shrieked, "Larry's deflowered half the girls on the cheerleading squad. No, this is definitely news."

"So? He swings both ways. It happens." Faith shrugged, "Oz, toss me that Mongolian beef."

Oz handed over the Styrofoam box in question, and Buffy grabbed the next one, which had a 'V' on top of it. "Larry and Andrew, I don't know." She said it as if considering, "I'm not sure I'd line up to watch that one."

"Nope, don't think so." Faith remarked through a mouth stuffed with food. "I heard they got caught by the women's basketball coach. I wonder how long she watched before butting in?"

Xander choked on his twinkie, "Watch? What do you mean, watch? That's just nasty."

"Come now." Buffy teased, setting her lunch down and crawling across the grass towards Xander, "You can't tell me that half your wet dreams aren't me and Cordelia getting it on for you to watch. My face buried between her legs, her mouth sucking you off. Does it turn you on?"

Xander's face went white as a sheet and he gibbered. "Bbbbut, that's different." He reached for his jacket and threw it across his lap.

Faith chortled, nearly spraying her food. "Damn, Xander, you are so busted."

Oz's eyes were big, but he said nothing. He finally leaned over and kissed Willow sweetly. "Please tell me you wouldn't want to watch two girls going at it." Willow's voice was a low whisper.

"I am a guy. But I'd rather have you that watch anyone else."

"You're so sweet." Willow grinned sheepishly and kissed him back. "Love you, baby."

"Love you, too."

Cordelia would not be dissuaded from the latest hot gossip. "But, still, Larry's gay, who would've thought? He's a football player, for heaven's sake. Besides, it's gross."

"Plenty of people go both ways, Cordy." Buffy smarted, losing patience with the girl.

"How would you know, you've only done it once. With Angel. And we all know how that turned out. You are a pariah. Nobody would touch you with a ten-foot pole now. Besides, you're either gay or straight, not both." She picked up the next piece of sushi that was sitting in her lunchbox oblivious to the hurt look on Buffy's face.

"I can think of a few guys I'd like to see do it." Faith grinned. "All that muscle and masculine energy, sweaty and hard."

"Mmm." Buffy sat back, leaning against her sister slayer, a dreamy look on her face. "Will and Sam. That would be a sight. Mocha on alabaster."

"Ooh, that would be good. Sam Mbuto has got the goods." Faith threw an arm around Buffy. "And we could lick them all clean after. All that watcher goodness, yummy. Who knew watchers could be hot? And Giles, who would he look good with?"

Buffy gave a small pensive smile. "Anyone. Giles would look good with anyone." But she leaned to whisper in Faith's ear. "Ethan." Faith went wide-eyed.

"Giles doesn't have sex." Cordy's voice was shrill. "He doesn't think about those sorts of things. He's too old. And he certainly doesn't have sex with men!"

Faith and Buffy looked up to see the man in question approaching them. Giles looked at the group with a mixture of horror and amusement. Buffy looked from Giles to Faith and fell back onto the grass, chortling. "Cordy, you are such an idiot. Giles is a hottie."

Oz piped up, "Do you even remember Sunday morning? Giles, girl, yells from upstairs?" He held up two fingers. "Twice."

Willow piped up. "Must be something Hellmouthy. But we never did meet his girl."

Faith gasped from her place in the grass where she and Buffy were hanging onto each other for dear life, tears streaming down their faces from their laughter. She pillowed her head on Buffy's shoulder. "Definitely lickable." She winked at Giles, who gave her a Ripperish smirk and winked back.

Willow ducked her head down so Giles couldn't see her blush. "Sorry, Oz, I've got to vote with the slayers. But you're better."

"I'm glad to see there are some ladies with taste around here." Giles looked sternly at the teenagers and took a seat between Oz and the slayers. "But the sexual proclivities of the staff are hardly appropriate conversation for the students."

"Unless said students are doing the staff." Faith mumbled quietly into Buffy's ear. The two girls melted into another fit of giggles. Faith rolled over on her back. "God, I so need to get laid!"

Buffy smiled down at Faith who was still resting her head on Buffy's shoulder. "So, let's drive to L.A. and get you laid. I've got the bike, you game?"

"Yeah?" Faith looked up at Buffy. "Really?"

"Hunting, slaying, drinking, partying. The docks are swarming with the most stupid vamps I've ever seen. Easy kills, but you can rough 'em up first. I even know a place in Culver where they'll pay good money to see us fight. We'll clean up at Lorne's after and hit the clubs. We'll find you a man, no doubt."

"You're kidding." Faith let out a low whistle. "Pay us for fighting. That'd be cool."

"Buffy!" Giles grabbed her leg to stop her from leaving. "This isn't safe."

"And being the slayer on a Hellmouth is so safe? Nah, I'll take my chances, unless you're willing to scratch our itch. There's not enough hunting here. Besides, I need some of the good stuff, and Lorne has it." Buffy stood up, offering her hand to Faith. "Come on. Let's play hooky. It'll be slayers' night off."

This time it was Oz who reached over to stop Buffy. "Lorne gets you plastered."

"Mmmhmmm." Buffy nodded with glee, licking her lips. "Good stuff. And he makes a mean margarita." She snickered, pulling Faith up off the ground. "Of course, if you like music and karaoke, we can spend the whole night at Caritas. We might find you a Bracken or two there." She held her fingers roughly twelve inches apart. Faith's eyes bugged. "They're neutral and look mostly human, but they do like a party. And two of them, well." Buffy licked her lips with relish.

Oz protested. "Will really hates it when you get sloppy drunk. And you don't know that Doyle's going to be around. There aren't many Brackens that hang out at Caritas. You're more likely to get stuck with a Sorthach."

"So? Will's not around. I can call Doyle, tell him to bring a buddy for Faith." Buffy shrugged. "And I don't get sloppy drunk, I get a little silly, but it wears off. Besides, we're talking about Faith getting laid, not me. I'll be playing poker with Lorne. It's so cute; you play for kittens! They crawl all over you."

"Are you going to drive back like that?" Oz protested. "Lorne's not going to let you drive back high as a kite."

"What? No. I'll let Faith drive back, unless you're volunteering to be the designated driver. Wanna come? I can hitch up the sidecar."

Oz shook his head. "The Dingoes are playing at the Bronze tonight."

"Your loss. I bet Willow would get a kick out of Caritas." Buffy pulled Faith close, dancing with her. "You'll love it, Faith. It's so damn cool! And all the drinks are on the house for the slayer. And Lorne's voice, so sexy."

"Damn, B. Let's get a move on." Faith tugged on Buffy's arm. "Get the helmets."

Giles finally found his voice. "Buffy, I must insist that you stay. And there's three more hours of school."

"Uh. Right. Come with, or stay behind. I don't care, but either way the bike leaves now." Buffy ran off with Faith, giggling madly as they made their way to the lockers. Three minutes later, the remaining Scoobies saw the two slayers don helmets and hop on the Harley just outside the school grounds.

Soon the other Scoobies left for class, leaving Oz and Giles to finish remains of their lunch. Giles shook his head. "I don't understand those girls."

"They're scared." Oz rolled on his back, watching white puffy clouds overhead. "They both need to decompress."

"They're slayers. Life is scary."

"You haven't seen what Aaron did to Ethan. He looked like raw meat." Oz's nostrils flared a bit at the memory of the smell. "Worse than you did last summer. I know you don't like him. But if Aaron had done the same to Buffy, we'd be burying her today."

"She's stronger than she looks."

"She's weaker than you think. Plus, she and Sam did some spells to help heal Ethan."

Giles protested. "She told me Ethan was fine."

"She lied." Oz rolled over onto his elbow and looked to the watcher.

"Why would she do that?"

"He had three broken ribs and a fractured hip. It took six hours for Sam to do enough magic so he could heal properly, and Sam completely drained Buffy's healing in the process. So she's weaker now than she came back in July."

"The selfish prick!"

"Ethan?"

"Yes, of course Ethan." Giles ran a hand through his hair, standing up from his seat in the grass and pacing. "How could he use her like this? Put her in danger?"

"I don't recall Ethan having much say in the matter. He was unconscious and half dead when we found him. But he's up and around a bit today." Oz speared a piece of meat off his box. "But he was royally pissed at her this morning. Gave Buffy a right reaming for endangering herself for him when he woke up. If you want to point fingers, point them at Buffy and Sam."

"And who's Sam?"

"Sam Mbuto. He was Kendra's watcher, wasn't he? Buffy is fixing up the pool house for him."

Giles did a double take, looking down at the young werewolf who was still stretched in the grass. "And why did Sam go along with this?"

"Probably because Ethan's the only person who can reason with her when she gets worked up into a snit. She trusts him, the same way she used to trust you. She listens to him, and she respects his advice." Oz shrugged when he saw the enraged expression on Giles' face. "We called Lorne, had Buffy sing for him, and Lorne said that if Ethan died, Buffy's mind couldn't take it. So we did what was necessary to save him."

"Ethan's not worth saving."

"Maybe not." Oz frowned. "But, Buffy is. And Ethan's important to her. From the little I understand of what happened to her there, I don't think she was ready to bury another friend, especially one she was able save."

"What happened to her?" Giles' hands were balled into fists. Oz could tell he wanted to punch something. "All I've gotten were hints and innuendos."

"She had to kill someone she loved. A close friend. Someone she knew was innocent. She was ordered to torture him and publicly execute him." Oz took a deep breath. "And she did."

Giles let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "She did what?"

"A year later, another man was arrested. Again, the man was innocent and an old friend. I think they were married at one time. She was ordered to torture and execute him." Oz looked off into the distance, as if staring at a junior class trotting around the track would make what he was saying less awful. "If what Spike says is true, it was a man with whom she had tried to have children. She had miscarried all of them. She wasn't able to kill him. She tried to help him escape and failed. After his death, she didn't try to escape her punishment. Spike tore the place apart to rescue her, and he hid her until Ethan summoned them back." Oz picked at the grass, tossing it into the wind and allowing it to float away. "Despite Ethan's and Abbott's best efforts, she had a miscarriage two days after her return. I assume it was that man's child. Or she hoped it was." Oz's expression was bleak. "It was never said out loud, but I can guess that she was raped. It was standard practice. And her injuries... well."

"How do you know all this?"

"Diaries. Spike wrote diaries the whole time. There's a complete written record of everything that happened once he found her." Oz grimaced. "Ethan was the only one who had the stomach to read them all. Sam read half the first diary and threw up, finished it, threw up. Said he didn't need to know. And there are twenty-eight more."

Giles looked over at the young man. "And you, did you read them?"

"I read ten." Oz slumped. "It was a living nightmare. If she eked out any happiness in that... I can't imagine."


End file.
